A New Normal
by Spirael
Summary: When a life changing accident befalls the Hamato family, it's only the beginning of trouble. Taking advantage of their ordeal, Shredder has tasked Tiger Claw with implementing a terrifying plan that threatens not only the turtles, but the whole of Manhattan. Will they come to terms with what has happened and be able to pull together in time to stop their nemesis and save the city?
1. Prologue: Fallen Foe

_When a life changing accident befalls the Hamato family, it's only the beginning of trouble. Taking advantage of their ordeal, Shredder has tasked Tiger Claw with implementing a terrifying plan that threatens not only the turtles, but the whole of Manhattan. With the clock ticking, will they come to terms with what has happened and be able to pull together in time to stop their nemesis and save the city?_

oOo

 **Status**

This story IS COMPLETE. I will be posting new chapters regularly and the story will conclude at the end of 2017.

 **Length**

70k+ words, 36 chapters.

 **Genre**

Hurt/Comfort and Adventure

 **Setting**

This story is set in the later series of TMNT 2012 universe, however it immediately deviates from the canon storyline and does not return. There are no significant OC in this story.

 **Rating**

T: Teen

The story contains depictions of injury, violence and innuendo that may not be suitable for younger readers.

 **And finally...**

This story is, obviously, fanfiction. It was written with two thoughts in mind. Firstly, because I am a fan of TMNT. I have zero financial gain for this story and post it here purely for the enjoyment of fellow fans. If I am, at any point, requested to remove it by the TMNT license holders then I will fully comply with their wishes.

Secondly, this story was started because I wanted to practice my writing and storytelling techniques, particularly quiet drama scenes which I find particularly difficult. As such, as you read this story I would really appreciate any comments you could leave that would help me in my quest to improve. Thank you in advance!

Lastly, a big shout out to the lovely CelandineGranger for being my beta-reader. If you haven't checked out her amazing fanfics yet, do so!

oOo

 **Prologue: Fallen Foe**

The gloom of nightfall was cast over the towering skyline of New York City. It was a cold, cloudy evening, filled with a persistent drizzle that threatened at any given moment to increase into full blown rain. The wind swept into every corner, leaving no escape from the elements to anyone spending the night outdoors.

For this reason, most had elected not to venture from their cosy houses and were instead warmly tucked up indoors. From the populous high-rise apartments of Manhattan Island, to the tree lined streets of the outer suburbs, most people were cosy within their dwellings. The few that ventured out huddled under raincoats and umbrellas, with their gaze cast downwards as they avoided the puddles that were forming on streets and sidewalks.

But even on a night such as this, evil didn't take a break. They did, however, elect to limit their wrongdoings to operations that could be carried out under shelter. After all, they disliked being cold and wet as much as the law-abiding citizens.

It was for that reason that the warehouse, assumed to be abandoned, was humming with activity. Stood above where the work was happening, Tiger Claw watched with arms folded as boxes were packed up and loaded into the unbranded, awaiting trucks. They were parked as close as possible to the building, to minimise both visibility of the activity and exposure to the weather.

"Pack everything up," he ordered, superfluously. If he stood, giving instructions, then it looked like he was busy and meant he didn't need to lower himself to the grunt work happening below. "Leave nothing behind."

"Work swiftly!" he added, his deep voice ringing with command. "The turtles know our location, we must not give them chance to return!"

In truth, he didn't think it was likely they would be back for some time. A slight smile played at the corner of his mouth, as his unpatched eye drifted to the stained area of floor where one of the turtle scum had fallen. The marks were now browner than the vivid red they had been before, but they still stood out starkly on the speckled grey of the concrete.

He could have ordered the area cleaned, but since they were abandoning this depot anyway it amused him more to leave the blemish visible, as a reminder of their success in seeing off their nosy enemies. Seeing the adversary fall, hearing the sudden cries of anguish and then fury from those that remained, it was a sound that Tiger Claw hoped would ring happily through his furry ears for some time.

The turtles had taken the foolish decision to abandon all that they had fought for, so the three could retreat with the body of the fourth. If the situation was reversed, he would not have hesitated to complete the job, even at the loss of one of his allies. Depending on which ally, he may even have enjoyed it.

The lack of commitment to the cause, that was what made the so-called heroes weak. That was why they failed to stop the force that was The Shredder in his ongoing conquest. Instead the cubs were as insignificant, yet annoying, as buzzing flies.

This warehouse held a vast amount of the goods that were being dealt illegally to fund Shredder's evil empire, as well as several crates of potent chemicals hidden amongst the more mundane items. Had the turtles succeeded in destroying it, it would not have stopped the onward march of the carefully crafted plans. Merely hampered them.

Yet Master Shredder would have been most displeased at the dent caused to his bank account. Given his penchant for taking out his frustrations on those under his command, Tiger Claw was pleased that the payload had not been lost.

However, now that they knew the location, eventually the turtles would return to finish the job. It would be too tempting a blow to strike against their foes for them to resist, and too great of an opportunity to try and discover the master plan. Yet it would take time for them to regroup after being forced to retreat. Doubtless, it would be three that returned instead of four.

Stroking the fur on his chin as he considered further, Tiger Claw realised it was the perfect setup for a trap. If the turtles returned and found the warehouse deserted, they would simply leave again. But, if he could make it look like it was still in use, they would venture deeper inside to destroy it. At which point, he could destroy them.

Destroy them, or capture them for Master Shredder? It was a difficult decision. In one paw, he wanted to see the end of all the turtles, preferably with as much pain and suffering as possible in recompense for what he had endured due to past failures of their causing. But in the other paw, the rewards from Shredder should he succeed in capturing their mortal enemies and be able to present them could be worth more than the brief, bloody gratification of destruction.

"You!" he commanded, pointing to several of the human Foot Soldiers that were lurking in such a way as to appear busy, while really be letting their robot equivalents do the bulk of the work. "Fetch empty boxes. Stack them where the full ones once stood."

"And tell the drivers," he added, "that once the trucks are unloaded they are to return here immediately!"

Not wanting to raise the ire of their commander, the Foot Soldiers quickly scattered to do as instructed. However, it didn't take long before the clank of clawed feet on the industrial metal staircase alerted Tiger Claw that he was being approached.

He turned to face Bradford; or Rahzar as the skeletal dog was commonly named. The mutant tiger waited with a stony face for the question he knew was coming.

"Why the empty boxes? It slows down clearing the goods!"

"Because," Tiger Claw started, a purr rolling around his words as he relished both the plan and the ability to lord it over the other mutant, "when the Turtles return it will lure them to try and finish what they started earlier."

A grin slowly spit Rahzar's skeletal face. "And this time, we'll be ready. Readier than before."

Tiger Claw nodded. "We will finish this, once and for all!"


	2. Chapter 1: One Down

**Chapter 1: One down**

To his back, the skyscrapers of downtown Manhattan dominated the New York skyline. They reached to the sky like stalagmites stretching towards a cave ceiling. The tips of masts upon the tallest glowed red with the warning lights for aircraft, as the night deepened into the smallest hours.

Camouflaged in shadows, the rooftop location gave Leonardo a clear view, while at the same time masking him from easily being spotted by any eyes that might turn in his direction. Yet his vantage point meant that he could keep a silent watch over the activities in and around the warehouse.

As he'd suspected, the foot soldiers appeared to be busily moving all the boxes and crates to a new location, now that they knew this depot had been discovered.

It wasn't the largest target. Earlier, Leonardo had been optimistic that taking it would prove no great difficulty, but that it would put a thorn in the side of their enemy and slow his dogged drive for evil. While the second part of his optimism remained to a lesser degree, the first part had been ripped traumatically away.

Slowly, Leo glanced over to where his two brothers were crouched, fixated on their goal and staring intently down at the target as they each silently appraised and counted the number of foes they could be facing. Normally he wouldn't expect such steely focus from either of them, but after what had happened earlier it was of no great surprise.

The anger in their eyes was clearly mingled with the fear and pain of what had occurred, along a determination to ensure that their enemies paid dearly for what had transpired. They were feelings that Leonardo shared, though he was desperately trying to keep the cool headed, logical part of his brain in charge of his decisions.

His fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the wall that encircled the roof. The dappled green of his skin was slick with the rain that was falling heavier now, from dark clouds above that showed no signs of moving in the foreseeable future. They concealed even the moon, which should be almost on the verge of full and casting light throughout the area.

Looking towards their target, Leonardo watched the Foot Soldiers steadily loading familiar boxes and crates into the back of the truck. There were several robots, but the majority appeared to be young humans that had evidently been bribed or coerced into working for The Shredder. There appeared to be no sign of any of the enemy mutants amongst them.

Almost, Leo felt a small pang of remorse for the youths. They probably had no idea of what they had truly become involved in, only focusing on the material gains they might make in the short term. It was the slippery slope that lead into a path that would probably see most of them winding up in prison, or worse, before they had ever truly found their place in the world.

As much as the young hero would have liked to save everyone, he knew that realistically it just wasn't going to happen. At the end of the day the youths had made a poor choice, but a choice nevertheless. There were others who would have no choice at all, if the reign of evil that Shredder desired was ever allowed to come to fruition.

It was imperative that they stopped him, no matter what the cost. He knew it, Sensei knew it, and his brothers knew it too. But even with the expectation and resolve prepared in advance, the price they had paid was still hard to stomach.

"So, what's the plan?"

Leo glanced over towards the low voice. He took a slow breath, considering all that he had seen, before reaching a decision.

"It's a trap."

No question was voiced, but Leonardo justified the statement with an explanation anyway.

"I don't see any of Shredder's henchmen, but they were here earlier. I can't believe they'd stop protecting this place before everything was moved, now that we know about it. Also, they should have finished loading that truck by now, at the rate they're going. I think they're just carrying the same boxes back and forth. They're trying to draw us out."

"What do we do?"

Leo distractedly reached back to touch his fingers to the hilt of one sword as he considered. This was the only lead they had, but could he risk taking his brothers straight into the trap? What if—

He tried to close his mind from the memory that burned there, but he was too slow. As clearly as before, he saw the stray shot that had taken out the gantry that hung above. It had fallen, swinging loose from the other chains that held it. He'd seen the path it was taking, knew where it would strike, but his yell of alarm had been powerless to prevent what had happened next.

The agonised scream echoed through his brain. Again, he relived the sight of the body slumping to the floor in a growing pool of crimson blood. Red, so much red.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Leonardo forced his breathing to slow and dedicated several long moments to mentally reciting the healing mantra. He didn't know whether it was some magic that was contained within the words, or just the fact that he was calming his mind and spirit, but after another few moments of struggle he was able to find peace and centre himself once more.

They had to do this right. He couldn't risk the world, but he didn't want to risk his beloved family any more than necessary. Yet as much as he might want to, deep down Leo knew that neither could he shoulder everything himself. Experience had, eventually, taught him that much.

There was no easy answer, there was no safe path to take.

"They are moving the goods from one warehouse to another…" Leonardo began.

"I thought you said they were pretending?"

"Which means they've already moved the real goods to new storage."

A mutter of frustration. "So, we're too late."

Leo shook his head. "No, because the trucks themselves are a commodity. If they don't believe them to be compromised, they'll keep using them for the same function."

He saw his brother's eyes light up as he quickly cottoned on. "We bug the trucks and they'll lead us straight there."

"Bingo."

With a grim smile, Leonardo straightened. "Let's do this the ninja way; swift and silent."

He gestured below, indicating towards the vehicles gathered around the building and allocating them with a nod. "Take one truck each. Do not be seen or heard."

He held out a hand to offer two of the tiny tracking beacons that had been so carefully created for this kind of scenario. His brothers reached out to take them, both returning small nods to show that they understood what it was they needed to do.

"Meet back here," was the final instruction Leo gave, before he swung over the wall and slipped into the shadow of the deep-set window ledge below.

Straining his hearing, he thought he heard the slight sound of the other two as they began to move. But, after that initial moment, they disappeared from his awareness as they swept into the rainy night. Intently, the leader monitored the Foot soldiers below for any indication that they suspected something was amiss. But they just continued the futile loading and unloading of the trucks in apparent oblivion.

Satisfied that all was well, Leo swung down through the levels, pausing at each point to ensure that he hadn't been noticed. In that way, he reached the ground with absolute certainty that the Foot were in no way aware of his presence.

Keeping low to the ground, he nimbly dodged the puddles and dove from shadow to shadow while weaving his way towards the truck. A momentary parting of the clouds that flooded the area with moonlight caused his heart to leap into his mouth, but the gloom returned barely seconds later and no cry of alarm was given.

It felt good to be moving, to be doing something. Gripping hold of the feeling, Leonardo insisted that it remain forefront in his thoughts. Back at the lair, everything had seemed so helpless. There was nothing more that could be done for their fallen brother, and the tension of doing nothing was crushing the life out of all of them.

Here, now, they were at least striving onward. It wouldn't change what had happened, but if they could just succeed at their goal then the mission they had initially tackled this evening would not be so futile. Their loss would not have been for nothing.

Once alongside the truck, Leonardo didn't hesitate before sliding straight underneath the tractor. He only just managed the movement in time, as he heard and saw the twin footsteps of two youths approach as they circled the vehicle.

"—much longer are we going to wait?" one of them was asking, the tone of boredom impossible to miss.

"Ask if you want," the other scoffed, "but that tiger dude has a mean temper."

A grim smile lifted Leonardo's mouth. He'd been right. It always felt good when he was right.

"I can't believe it's still raining," the first youth groaned, heading around the front of the tractor and beginning the walk down the far side. "I'm soaked to my shorts, man."

The other individual, seeming to be of greater experience and work ethic, strode on in silence. There was a brief pause, with two feet appearing an arm's length from where Leonardo was concealed, then he saw and smelt the dropped end of a cigarette. Not so professional after all, it seemed.

He waited for the two to move further away before daring to risk a movement. While the tracking devices were deliberately designed to be small, dark and as innocuous as possible, from experience Leo knew that there was a tiny click as they were activated.

With device in hand, he waited for several long moments until he heard someone climbing into the back of the trailer. Matching the activation to be muffled by their footsteps was then easy.

His goal complete, Leonardo didn't linger any longer than necessary. Rolling out from underneath the tractor, he leapt straight into the inviting shadows of other vehicles parked nearby, before disappearing completely into the night to regroup with his two brothers.


	3. Chapter 2: Pizza the action

**Chapter 2: Pizza the action**

The tracker was safely stowed between the tractor and the trailer in record time, and Michelangelo had even remembered to activate it. But, what he couldn't recall was what needed to happen next. He had a feeling that he'd been told, but no matter how hard he tried, that small snippet of information kept dodging away like a tadpole in the riverbed.

It was just so hard to focus with so many turbulent thoughts jostling for place inside his brain. Michelangelo's mind was never the most organised of places at the best of time, and right now there seemed to be a flash mob rave going on as each of his emotions vied for precedence and pushed memory recall to the darkest corner.

Fortunately, the youngest turtle was well accustomed to acting, even with such distractions pulsing within him. Filled with a nervous energy that left him wiggling in place, he abruptly decided that he may as well do something useful and explore the area while trying to remember. So, leaping from the back of the trailer, he bounced onto a drainpipe that lead up the side of the warehouse building.

Swiftly and silently, he climbed up to reach the roof level. Then, barely even aware of his movements, he danced between the shadows to cross the rain slickened, corrugated surface. He moved as nimbly as any of the performers on that glitzy television show that April had shown him.

Supressing the urge to hum his own theme music, Mikey span elegantly between the cover of the air conditioning units that dotted the rooftop. He finished his movement with a flourish that he remembered one of the actors doing. It looked good, he decided, but would have been better with a partner.

He'd have to talk to Leo about integrating dancing into their standard manoeuvres. After all, just because they were busy defeating bad guys and saving the world didn't mean they couldn't do it with a bit of pizazz. Though he did concede that adding the sparkles to their attire might not mesh well with the ninja aspect of stealth.

However, as the saying went, it took two to tango. Mikey chewed on his lower lip. They'd need to split into pairs, which ordinarily wouldn't have been a problem. But, in the wake of earlier events… Well, that was another good idea he'd have to relegate to the reject pile.

The leap down to the fire escape scaffold was one of the most sedate and yet one of the more impressive movements yet, with barely a sound as the light-footed turtle gracefully landed on the narrow railing. There Michelangelo perched, crouched in silence for several moments.

His brothers might have believed of him an unexpected but welcome show of caution, as he listened out for any indication that his presence had been detected by the enemy. However, the truth was sadly less astute, as in fact he'd paused to contemplate the fact that he was hungry.

The last meal had been long before their earlier attempt on the warehouse, was the belated realisation. That had been several hours ago and he was now sure that in the time that had passed, he'd missed at least one meal that his stomach would quite like to have enjoyed.

It was likely that his brothers were hungry as well, Mikey contemplated. It'd be just like them to forget to eat in the wake of what happened, as if somehow their own suffering would help ease the suffering of another. But he knew the truth… It would just make them grumpy.

Besides, the youngest turtle was clinging determinedly to the hope that by the time they got home, their fallen brother would have come around and berate them all for their concern. Really, there was no way that anything else could possibly happen. Didn't the universe know that the four of them would always be together?

His big brother would be just fine, of that Michelangelo was certain. At least, he was almost certain. Well, he had a strong gut feeling and as far as gut feelings went, his were usually quite reliable. Even when his gut was mostly shouting about being famished.

They'd just have to stop and grab some pizza on the way back to the lair, he decided. It was that thought that suddenly reminded him what he was meant to be doing, and it wasn't to investigate the area. Leo's voice echoed through his head, as he'd decreed in his leader-y way that they were all meant to be meeting back where they had started.

With a guilty glance in that direction, Mikey was sure he could see the two silhouettes waiting impatiently for his return. It was hard to make out in the gloom, but he could imagine easily enough the irritated body language as they complained to one another about him.

Twisting round, the turtle had fully intended to leap up onto the roof once more and start back to where he came from. But before he could make the move, he was distracted by movement at the corner of his vision. Turning swiftly towards it, he found himself looking in through the window of the warehouse.

Several of the panels were broken completely in the rusting frame, shattered away to leave only a jagged gap. Others had cracks running through them, looking like only the smallest poke would be required to send the glass spilling out onto the ground. Yet one single panel defied the odds and sat there, oddly perfect, in the ancient framework.

Within the building, several Foot Soldiers were clustered together as they examined the internal gantry that was hanging down without the support of one of the chains. It was the movement of one of them pushing the gantry back and forth like a swing that had attracted the turtle's attention. But as he watched, Michelangelo felt his empty stomach flip-flop uncomfortably at the sight of blood still marking the floor.

Straining his hearing against the pitter-patter of rain, he found he could just about make out the words of the conversation through the gaps in the window.

"—happened?" one of the taller men was asking.

There were a few guffaws from the wider group that muffled what was uttered next, before the words of the single woman in the group finally cut through.

"—leapt in to push the other one out of the way," she explained, sweeping her arms before herself in a physical representation. "That corner hit its shell, before gouging a massive hole in its head."

One of the younger boys chipped in gleefully, still pushing the gantry. "There was so much blood! It was _sick_!"

It was sick, Michelangelo thought in anguish. But only in the old-fashioned sense of the word.

He could feel his eyes starting to sting. Riveted to the spot, he wanted to tear himself away, to stop himself from seeing and hearing the conversation. But he just couldn't seem to make it happen.

Seeing his two brothers being knocked to the floor was one of the most traumatic things Mikey had ever witnessed, and the memory of it was barely beneath the surface of his thoughts. Chewing his lower lip nervously, the turtle frantically tried to keep his emotions in check.

"The others started screaming," the woman continued, waving her arms animatedly. "They were yelling its name-"

Her words were cut off by the sudden metal clang, followed by a groan, as the gantry lurched and dropped a little further on the remaining chains. It scraped against the wall, a terrible noise that made fingernails on a blackboard sound like a philharmonic orchestra. The youthful Foot soldier squealed in fright and jumped back, causing a ripple of laughter from the onlookers.

But Mikey didn't find it funny. In his mind, he could hear what the woman had been describing, reverberating through his memory in an endless cascade. He could see again the sight of his brother, lying motionless on the floor. He didn't want the scene to replay, he didn't want to recreate it again. But no matter how hard he tried, the intruding recollection refused to be quashed.

Pulling himself away from the scene, ignoring the enemies as they got back to chattering, Michelangelo swiftly leapt back up to the roof. There he crouched for several long moments, taking a few steadying breaths before he crossed the building top in a far more sedate fashion than his previous performance.

From the far side, it was an easy slide down the drainpipe to the carpark below. Then it was simply a task of dodging the puddles and scurrying between vehicles, as he navigated the expanse to the far side.

The turtle shimmied easily up the building from where the mission had begun, where he suspected his brothers would be waiting for him. It didn't take him more than a few seconds to reach the rooftop, where he found two figures were indeed standing around impatiently.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show up!" came the dry criticism he could have predicted.

Leonardo meanwhile waited a few moments before speaking, as his eyes searched Michelangelo's face before narrowing shrewdly.

"Everything ok?"

"Yup, no problemo!" Mikey replied, dragging a grin across his mouth. Both that and the bounce in his words felt slightly forced, but it seemed to be good enough to pass muster as both his brothers nodded and seemed to relax.

"Then, let's head back," Leo started, before trailing off. He evidently had been intending to continue, but seemed to be struggling to find the right words. The slight swallow he then gave might have meant nothing to another person, but Mikey knew his cool-headed brother well.

"Pizza!" Michelangelo suddenly raised one hand in the air as if he were granting himself the permission to speak. "We need to stop for pizza on the way back."

"Pizza?! Mikey are you—"

"No, he's right," Leonardo cut in, straightening as he mentally grabbed onto the distraction and steeled himself. "Pizza… Sounds great."


	4. Chapter 3: Love and loss

**Chapter 3: Love and loss**

Deep underground, the lair that was normally so vibrant with the lives of the teenage inhabitants seemed to be devoid of the energy that would usually have filled it. Instead, an oppressive weight hung in the silence, a gloom that seemed to engulf even the bright lights of the pinball machine and the fun filled comics that were scattered across the floor.

Even when barren of humanoid inhabitants, there was usually the rustle of rodents and insects audible in the adjoining tunnels, as well as the sound of waste as it swept through the bare pipework that networked throughout the area. But today even that seemed to be stilled, as if the world had taken a breath and not yet been able to release it.

Within the dojo, beneath the outstretched branches of the tree that shone so inexplicably with life, a tall figure sat cross legged. It was a position he had maintained ever since his sons had departed, to continue the mission they had earlier attempted.

Splinter's old heart still pounded, as in his mind he heard again the cries of his children. Their words of panic, as three of them carried the fourth. The frantic activity that had followed seemed at dramatic odds to the stillness that had since descended. The gathering of whatever medical supplies they could scavenge, followed by the desperate attempts to save the life that was slipping through their fingers. Until, there was nothing more that could be done.

It was Leonardo, wise beyond his years, who realised that their presence with pent-up grief and frustration was causing more harm than good. So, he had called upon their anger and channelled their anxious energy to be directed in a more productive manner, against the enemies that had caused the tragedy.

The three had departed, leaving the body that was laid out upon the rugs in the care of their master. It had been hard to scavenge such serviceable rugs, when this lair had first become their home. One was now stained forever with the blood that had continued to spill for an inexplicable time. But Splinter cared not, for rugs were just things. Objects could be replaced; the same could not be said for the one whose blood had fallen.

Splinter reached out to gently brush his fingers over the forehead of his son. His mind could barely comprehend the coldness of the skin and the lack of colour in the still features. Features which should be so animated, so full of life, with eyes that reflected the love that was shared throughout the unorthodox family.

Those eyes were closed, hidden beneath shadowed lids and sunken back into the head. The bandana that had once surrounded them had been cast heedlessly aside in the haste to gain access to the injury that ran beneath it. A gaping wound, through which the fractured skull had clearly been visible before their efforts to marry it back together.

Layer upon layer of bandaging had been added, as each soaked through in turn. The eventual slowing of the blood was of little comfort, as Splinter feared there could not have been much left to lose.

Nearby, April remained knelt in stasis. She was leant forward, eyes tightly closed in concentration, with her hands pressed gently to the temples of her friend as she mentally reached for him. Her devotion, her unending hope, filled Splinter's heart with unexpected warmth.

"I keep searching and searching," she murmured, as if aware that Splinter was looking at her.

"April." Through her name was simple conveyance of the appreciation he felt, of her efforts and the depths of her friendship. He could see the strain on her face, but she persevered regardless, with unstoppable determination. He had not the heart to tell her to stop.

"I will find him. I don't care how long it takes. I won't let him… He can't be…"

Her voice petered out and was replaced with soft sniffling, as she could contain her sadness no longer. Splinter shared her woe, and though he still sat in silence he knew that his heart made much the same display of sorrow. The pain of loss, that empty void that could be surrounded with what love remained, but would remain unfilled for all time.

In darker thoughts, he wondered whether previous bereavement had hardened him when it came to facing the departure of yet another family member. Yet this pain felt as fresh and raw as it had done when Tang Shen perished in his arms all those years ago. Perhaps even more so.

This boy, for he was just a boy still, had barely had a chance to live. Just approaching the strength and the maturity that beckoned with looming adulthood, to have all the promise of the future ripped away was heart-rending. Splinter knew that he would rather have faced his own death a thousand times than be witness to the departure of one of his sons.

Worse still was the knowledge of the torment his other children faced. The raw grief that April felt would be compounded exponentially amongst those born together, raised together, who had never been apart for any significant period throughout their entire lives.

Different as the seasons, all were part of a whole that was beyond anything he could comprehend. How could they go on, with one part ripped away? Would the hole that was left behind ever be filled, or would the remaining fabric of the family unravel with time until little was left but the tattered memories?

He must be strong for them, that he knew. He must guide them through whatever may happen, give them the strength to stand and face the harshness of the world with the unrelenting weight of grief upon their young shoulders.

A distant sound caused Splinter's sensitive ears to twitch slightly. For the barest second, he dared to hope, but it quickly became apparent that the noise came from beyond the walls of the dojo.

It was not his sons returning, he could not hear their voices nor would he ever expect them to be so heavy footed. Fortunately, he was familiar with the one whose feet announced their coming so blatantly.

The visitor soon reached the door to the dojo, dropping his bag heavily onto the floor before hurrying into the room.

"I came as soon as I got the message!" Casey declared, worry seeming out of place upon his features. "Is he..?"

Splinter, eyes downcast, couldn't prevent his ears from drooping slightly.

Casey hesitated, seeming uncertain how to react. He took a hesitant step forward, then another, before hurrying the rest of the way to come and crouch besides those who kept vigil.

For several long moments, the three sat in uncomfortable silence.

"Well, this bites."

Though his own phrasing would have differed, Splinter could share in the sentiment. With a trembling hand, he reached out again to touch the motionless face of his son. Desperately, his keen eyes searched for any sign of life, for any indication that his child might overcome the grievous harm that had been dealt.

His gnarled hands dragged slightly on the young skin. It caused a slight twitch at the corner of his beloved son's lips that, for the barest moment, triggered a dream to leap in the chest of the old rat. But, as he cautiously moved his fingers away, the face once again returned to stillness.

Sitting back on his heels, Splinter clasped his hands upon his lap. The weight of helplessness fell heavily upon him. But as much as he might wish to wallow in the darkness of the mood that snapped upon his heels, he knew he must not succumb.

Drawing a slow breath as he forced his centre to stillness, he began, "We must-"

But the remainder of his words died before they could be voiced, though his mouth remained slightly open as his eyes widened. Desperately, frantically, his amber eyes searched again for the impossible movement they believed had occurred.

There was nothing, until April suddenly made a small noise in the back of her throat. It triggered those gathered to quickly look in her direction, stifling their words in those few moments of silent anticipation.

"I… I've found him!" she gasped, shattering the tension into a million unperceivable pieces. "He's here; I've found him!"

Splinter was powerless to stop his eyes from filling with tears, as he quickly reached out to take the limp green hand into his own. It was still cool, too cool, but he felt the barest twitch of a finger against his own.

His voice cracking with relief, the old rat gasped the name desperately, as if somehow it would summon his son back to him.

"Donatello!"


	5. Chapter 4: Myself

**Chapter 4: Myself**

Drifting through the darkness, I felt strangely disconnected from everything. I wasn't hot or cold. I didn't feel hunger, or thirst. In fact, I was barely even aware of my body. It felt as if I was as light as air, no longer constrained by the weight of my physical form and pinned down by Newton's law.

Floating easily through the inky space, tiny motes of light flickered at the edges of my vision. Yet every time I turned towards them, they flitted away before I could focus. In the void of anything else, I felt they must be important. But, at the same time, the absence didn't seem to bother me.

For an indefinable period, I drifted gently through the emptiness without a care or concern. But, at length, my mind slowly began to wander. Questions started to creep into my consciousness. At first this didn't particularly trouble me, but then I started to realise there were answers I was missing; answers that I ought to know.

Where was I? That was one of the first mysteries I pondered, and it was rapidly joined by a realisation of others. How did I get here? Then; how do I get back?

Back to where? I must have come from somewhere, to get to here. I didn't think that here was where I had always been, just that this was the here of now. Which meant there must have been a here of then, which wasn't here at all.

The thought that there must have been something before the desolation grew and grew in my mind, becoming all encompassing. I had been someone once, I'd had a physical existence in another place. Why couldn't I remember it?

Around me, bright motes sparkled like stars. They seemed close and yet so far. I felt like the answer lay within them, yet as I strove to fix them in my vision they seemed to slip lithely away with just a whisper of the truth that was embedded within them.

Slowly, I realised that I needed to move. I couldn't just drift through space forever, lost in the infinite nothingness. Focusing on this goal eventually rewarded me with the formless shapes of limbs that, with effort, I discovered that I could manipulate to the will of my mind.

With all the grace of a hatchling, I gave an ungainly lurch towards the nearest sparkle. It was gone long before I stood a chance of reaching it, but the fact that I had moved at all gave me motivation to persevere.

Over what felt like several eternities, I kept striving for my goal. Shapeless appendages became defined. Jerky movements became smoother. Small distances became larger. Eventually I was swimming with ease through the space, as if I had been born to do so.

It was then only a matter of time until I managed to capture one of the motes in my newly formed hands. Iridescent colours erupted from the tiny sparkle, highlighting the contours of fingers and thumbs. After all the motionless darkness, the beauty of the little thing that danced between my palms was unimaginable.

So close, the whispers of speech hidden with the prismatic light had become louder. Sounds I couldn't comprehend, mingled as if many sang in harmony. I tried to form words of my own, to talk back to the mystery beings, but I had no voice to speak with.

Clasping my hands around the mote, shutting my eyes against the light, I concentrated on forming sounds of my own. It took what seemed to be a lifetime, but from the first toneless utterance I worked towards forming a lilting speech and, in time, was rewarded. My voice filled the area, making the emptiness seem all the vaster whenever I lapsed to silence.

Ready to converse with the whispers from before, hopeful that the answers I had been seeking were now within my grasp, I carefully opened my hands and peered into them. But, to my dismay, the light was gone.

Then, I looked up. I had expected the darkness, but what greeted me was an explosion of light and colour that set my mind reeling as I struggled to process it all. There were places that I almost remembered, people that almost seemed familiar.

Warmth and cold began to ripple across my skin, while scents both sweet and vile sent my senses tingling. Melodies were mingled with voices, speaking words I could understand, stirring feelings that were overwhelming.

Love, so powerful that I felt my form pulsating with the energy. Hatred, a hot rage that enveloped my whole being. Joy, bubbling through me with an elation that could not be constrained. Pain, shattering everything to fragments.

It was me, I finally realised. I was looking at everything that had formed myself. I existed, and I had a place in the world, beyond the void which cocooned me.

I would have stared into it forever, lost in the essence of everything that I was, had it not been for the growing feeling of dread that was manifesting itself beneath my feet. As little as I wanted to, eventually I could avoid it no longer and tore my gaze away to stare downwards.

Darkness, yet more so. An empty void, where neither time nor space could penetrate. It beckoned to me, promising peace. Promising oblivion. There would be no pain, no hatred there. But nor would there be joy, or love.

I was tempted. There was a growing realisation, a haze of memories that promised the alternative would not be an easy path to take. Why should I face it, when there was an option that would be so much easier? Where I could float in perpetual tranquillity.

Time lost meaning as I hung between pain and the abyss, trapped amid a decision more monumental than I could possibly comprehend.

I made my choice.

oOo

Someone was screaming. It was a thin, high-pitched, monotone cry that was punctuated with the sharp edge of distress. A sound to send shivers down the spines of anyone with an iota of compassion.

It was a terrible noise, and it wasn't helping the splitting pain that rang through Donatello's head. He wanted it to stop, but his body was rigid and unresponsive, jerking feebly away from any attempt made to wrestle it under control.

Within his chest, his heart felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies all fluttering frantically. While, no matter how hard he tried to take a breath, all the air seemed to be snatched away before he could grab it.

Mercifully, it was only a few moments longer before the screams faded into silence. For the first time, Donatello felt his chest rise properly as he juddered through drawing a much-needed breath, before releasing it with a shudder.

For several seconds, he just lay in a disoriented heap with no true idea where his body began or concluded. He'd thought nothing could possibly be more excruciating than the explosion of pain that seemed to be erupting inside his cranium, until he tried to open his eyes.

It took more than a few attempts to persuade his eyelids to slide back far enough to let in a sliver of blurred vision. The teenager instantly regretted it, as the light felt like a thousand white hot needles stabbing straight into his brain.

Unfortunately, shutting his eyes again was as difficult as it had been to open them. The message he sent to his arm, to use a hand as a shield, never seemed to arrive.

The scream of agony that he desperately wanted to release was also unable to manifest. Instead formed the smallest whimper, which rolled unhappily around his mouth before finally escaping alongside bloodstained spittle.

"Master Splinter? Is he…"

A voice. Strangely familiar, and yet the owner might as well have been a stranger. No face leapt up in his mind, no name presented itself to be attached to the individual he could hear. Yet, the sound sent a sudden warmth through him that he couldn't explain.

"I believe it has passed. Donatello, can you hear me?"

A different voice, this one spoke in lower tones that incorporated a gentle rumble. It was comforting, but strangely foreign. He felt something, an obedience towards the command. There had been a question, tied in with his own name, which needed to be answered.

But, he was tired. So very tired. Everything hurt; the simplest of actions was a chore. The flaring agony in his head had barely abated, and even drawing breath sent spasms of pain coursing throughout his body.

"Donatello?"

His name, again. But who had spoken it?

"My son…"

Why wouldn't they just let him sleep? He just wanted to sleep.

"My son, can you hear me?"

"No," Donnie moaned, desperately. It expended everything he had, just to utter that single word.

There was a moment of confused hesitation from the onlookers, though Donatello was barely aware of it, before calloused fingers gently touched the side of his face.

"Then rest," the voice instructed, with a tenderness that helped to ease the pain. "Rest now, and we will speak when you awaken."

He barely needed any encouragement. But, having received permission, Donnie felt the tense breath he'd been clinging to escape in a gentle sigh. He slipped towards the inviting embrace of slumber, as fatherly hands swathed him in blankets.


	6. Chapter 5: Why?

**Chapter 5: Why?**

"No! Stop them!"

A leap and jump made crossing the warehouse floor easy. A swipe with one hand took down a foot soldier to the left, before a spinning kick sent another careening into a pillar. It was like playing against children; it almost felt wrong to beat them. Almost, but not quite.

"Take them down!"

The mutants amongst our enemies were yelling commands out, but no-one was actually doing anything that could prevent us from achieving our goal.

"Yeah, in your dreams," I muttered, a smirk playing on my lips.

Fish Face finally built up the nerve to charge me, but a dodge to the side and then a swift sai to his robotic knee sent him skidding across the floor and into a pile of boxes. They came crashing down on top of him, effectively taking him out of this battle.

I straightened just in time to see Tiger Claw raise his blaster and fire towards me from the far side of the room, just as Leo dived in to attack him. I didn't even have to try and avoid the shot, as it went wide and clanged off metal somewhere above my head.

My attention moved to where Rahzar was pounding furiously towards me. I almost didn't hear the distant cry of my name, I was too busy watching as my assailant skid suddenly to an awkward halt. Too scared to even face me, I thought with sickening smugness.

Then it hit me. A sudden weight tackled me from the side, but my stance was solid. I stood my ground and refused to be budged. It was with some confusion that I realised it was my brother trying to push me over.

"Get down!" Donnie yelled in panic, trying again to drive us towards the ground.

This time I saw it. I saw the damaged gantry swinging towards us with increasing speed. My eyes widened, but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed, helpless to do anything but watch every agonising millisecond as my little brother selflessly shielded me.

We plunged towards the concrete in slow motion, and I saw his expression burst into shock. The sound of metal scraping over shell screamed in my ears, before the reinforced edge clipped his skull just as we dropped beneath the arc of the swing.

Donatello went dead against me, eyes still staring in horror, as his hot blood washed over my face.

oOo

Terror cut through the restless dream like a knife, catapulting Raphael back into reality. He was sat up in bed, his heart pounding fast and hard enough for the vibrations to be felt from the top of his skull to the tips of his toes.

A blanket was entangled around his body and it took a few frantic moments of disoriented thrashing for him to rip it away. Raph flung it across the room, where he stared numbly at the offending fabric for several seconds, as if it were the dead shell of an oversized cockroach.

The throbbing in his muscles and the way his breath came out in gasps made it feel like he'd just run the New York marathon in record time. Then a trembling slowly overcame him, one that he struggled initially to subdue.

But it passed. As seconds extended into minutes, his pulse slowed and he found himself able to take the deep gulps of air required to calm his breathing. Bringing his knees to his chest, he laid folded arms against them and rested his head atop, while his toes clawed at the rumpled bed sheet.

A nightmare. A terrible nightmare. But that was all; it couldn't possibly be real.

Peeling himself away from the protective huddle, Raphael slowly stood. It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, but he had to be sure.

Silently, he slipped out of the room and padded over to stand before his brother's bedroom. The door was ajar, but that wasn't unusual. Nor was the discovery that the room was empty and the bed unslept in.

He'd be in his lab, as per usual, fallen asleep over his latest experiment with a mug of cold coffee by one hand. The same way they found him almost every morning. Raphael rolled his eyes. Really, Donatello was just far too predictable. Why he didn't just set up his bed in the lab was anyone's guess.

Still, memory of the nightmare was too fresh for Raph to relax. The throb of fear was resonating throughout the back of his mind. There was no way he'd be able to get to sleep right now. He needed to check, just to be sure that it was nothing but a terrible dream.

Ignoring the other two rooms, which were still and silent with the doors closed, the turtle crept down through the living space and over towards the area that his intellectual brother had commandeered for his expansive laboratory.

He was so confident that Donatello would be there, that the shock when he wasn't hit with the weight of the punching bag. Reeling backwards, Raphael stared in horror at the empty room. The desk, scattered with papers, housed nothing but the computer that sat still and silent, its screen black.

Panic was rising once more, as reality untangled itself from the haze of sleep. The battle against their enemies, the horrifying battle to slow the gushing blood. Then the waiting, the terrible waiting, before being dragged away from restless pacing to finish what they had begun.

Afterwards, returning to the lair with no stomach for the pizza they had obtained. Unsure whether it was more evil to hang in doubt or drown in certainty. Yet sureness could not be found, as with the thin sliver of hope was yet more waiting, as the situation remained precarious.

Raph couldn't even remember when he'd made the decision to sleep. He didn't recall returning to his room. Did that mean it had been a nightmare? His pulse began to quicken and the trembling returned to his hands. Or, was this reality?

Turning abruptly, the turtle's eyes fell on the gentle glow that was emanating from the dojo. Swiftly striding across the space, feeling strangely disconnected as if a dream lingered still, Raphael reached the entryway in what felt to be just a few floating steps.

Leonardo looked up at him, from where he was sat cross legged on the floor with a pile of his ridiculous Space Heroes comics. He'd clearly been working through them, although he lowered the one currently in his hands. It was the sixth edition, where the idiot lieutenant was spared a grisly death by the altruistic, red shirted science officer.

It was easier to focus on the detail of the comic than see what was beyond it. For several heartbeats, it felt like everything had stopped. So long as he made no further action, then he might be spared the truth. But he couldn't evade it forever. Eventually, Raphael forced his gaze to shift to that which he was avoiding. To where, on the floor, Donatello lay.

Deep gouges out of his brother's shell pointed like an arrow towards the wound on his skull. It was covered by a thick layer of gauze pads that were securely bound in place. The white bandages crossed above where the purple of Donnie's mask should be, with the tied ends trailing down beside one bruised cheek.

He was arranged upon a hastily gathered pile of rugs and blankets, with several coverings warming his lower body. Splatters of dried blood still marked many of them, as a shortage of supplies required their reuse. Nearby, a jug of water waited by a disparate collection of bowls, cups and spoons.

The green of Donnie's skin was a mottled, pale colour that barely resembled the tone it ought to be. It reminded Raph faintly of overcooked algae. Combined with the sunken features of his brother's face, if it hadn't been for the slight movement of breath then Raph would have sworn that Leo was guarding a corpse.

"You ok?" Leonardo eventually asked.

The words jolted Raphael out of his stunned silence from the doorway.

"Me?" he eventually replied, disbelief evident in his tone. " _Me?_ Am _I_ ok?"

Leo carefully put down his comic book. "Yes, you. You're the one standing there looking like you're about to pass out or throw up."

"I'm not going to pass out or throw up!" Raphael retorted, anger flooding his voice and colour rushing to his face.

He was surprised to see Leonardo relax.

"Great. In that case…"

His brother stood, brushing himself down as he did so.

"I need to stretch my legs. Will you watch Donnie for a bit? Sensei's sleeping."

Raph nodded mutely, then observed in silence as Leo headed out of the dojo. How could he be so calm, when Don was laying there on the cusp of death?

Reluctantly, with every part of his body and mind screaming against it, Raphael forced himself to cross the floor and kneel by Donatello's side. There, he stared for several minutes into his brother's deceptively peaceful face.

"Why?!" Raph eventually choked. He didn't expect an answer, so he wasn't disappointed when none arrived.

"Why did you do it?! You should have… You should have just left me! I should be lying there with my head caved in, not you!"

Raphael clenched his fists, as he fought against the overwhelming grief, frustration and anger that vied for dominance within him.

"This is… It's all my fault…"

He might have been overcome by his grief, had it not been for the slight movement that he spotted in his brother's face. A flicker of the eyelids, a twitch of the lips.

"Donnie?"

Again, there was a slight movement. The eyes opened the barest fraction, allowing Donatello's warm eyes to land upon Raphael, who had leant forward to better examine the motion. He saw the pupils sluggishly contract, as his brother struggled to focus.

Raph watched Donnie's lips and tongue work slowly as he tried to speak. At first, no sound was emitted. But, on the fourth attempt, he managed to croak a single word.

"Who...?"

That hadn't been anything like what Raph was expecting. He hesitated a moment before responding with, "It… it's me, Donnie. It's Raphael."

In the silence that followed, he wondered whether his brother had slipped back into unconsciousness. But just as he was about to give up the conversation and sit back, Donatello spoke again.

"R'ph…"

"Yeah. Yeah, Donnie. I'm right here."

His brother's staring was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure whether Donatello could see him or not, with the way the pupils seemed to have settled on different levels of dilation.

"I…"

He waited, but no further words came. Instead, his brother suddenly started to emit a low keening. It was an unearthly sound, with no clear meaning, that sent a shiver tumbling down Raph's shell. His eyes flicked briefly towards the room where he knew Splinter would be resting, as he wondered whether to fetch him, when Donnie's hand knocking against his arm made him jump.

"Whoa! Don, are you—"

The question lost purpose, Donatello's twitching swiftly grew into an all-encompassing shuddering. Raphael's eyes widened in alarm. He leant forward to clutch his brother's shoulders, to try to still him and prevent him from coming to further harm.

"Donnie! Donnie, stop!"

Raph wasn't convinced that his brother could hear him, or indeed that he had any awareness of what was happening at all. Foamed saliva splattered his lips, while his eyes stared blindly at nothing.

There was the sound of feet rapidly approaching, preceding Leonardo skidding back into the room.

"What happened?" he cried in alarm, "Raph, what did you do?!"

Raphael looked up at his eldest brother, his vivid eyes widening in dismay.


	7. Chapter 6: Fighting chance

**Chapter 6: Fighting chance**

Leonardo had only left his brothers for a few minutes. He was stood in the kitchen, waiting the tea to brew, when the unnatural wail and echoed out towards him from the dojo.

Dropping everything, the leader sprinted back towards where he'd left his brothers. Inwardly, he cursed himself for leaving them. How could he have been so foolish? He'd suspected that Raphael was struggling, had abandoning him with Donatello caused him to snap?

But he was surprised to find the noise coming not from Raph. Instead it was from Donnie, who hadn't moved all evening. Now, he writhed about while Raph sought to stop him.

"What happened?" Leonardo cried, as he raced over. "Raph, what did you do?!"

The words came out with more accusation than he'd intended, causing his brother to recoil as if slapped. Grimacing, Leo regretted what he'd said. But it was too late to take it back now and he had more important things to deal with.

As a flapping arm backhanded Raphael across the jaw, Leonardo grabbed hold of Donatello's wrist. He wasn't anticipating the strength that fought against him and nearly lost his grip as the arm tried to wrench itself away.

"Hold him, stop him! Before he hurts himself!"

"NO!"

Splinter's voice boomed out from the side of the room. He entered with tattered bedding still spilling off him as he ran.

"Release him! Move everything out of his way!"

Although startled at the command, Leonardo still jumped to obey. Freeing his hold on Donatello, he sprang back before turning to pull the water jug and everything else in the vicinity well out of reach. Raphael, more reluctant to move, kept his hands protectively on his brother's shoulders even as their father hurried across the room to crouch beside them.

Leo watched as Splinter pushed Raph easily away, before turning his attention towards his flailing son. Gathering any unused blankets, he used them to cushion the larger movements within softness.

"Donatello," he said, his voice as calm as the seizure was violent. "We are here, we are with you. This will pass."

If he could hear, Donnie made no indication of it, as far as Leo could tell. If anything, his movements seemed to become more juddering. His head was thrown backwards, the bandaged area colliding with the ragged lip of his shell.

As the froth at his brother's lips turned red, Leonardo gasped. "Sensei!"

Splinter made a reassuring motion in his direction that did little to calm his worry, while continuing to speak soothingly to Donatello.

It felt so helpless to do nothing but watch his little brother thrashing about as one possessed, doing further damage to himself when he was already so critically wounded. Terror gripped at Leonardo, a tightening in his throat that made it hard to breath. This was beyond anything he'd felt before. How could Donatello possibly survive this?

Much the same, if not worse, seemed to be passing through Raph's mind. Leo could see the anguish on his face and the pale of his knuckles, as his hands rested uselessly on his knees. He didn't meet Leo's gaze, but instead just kept staring at Donatello with a burning intensity in his eyes, as if he could prevent what was happening if he willed it strongly enough.

With every second seeming to last for several minutes, by the time the convulsions abated it felt as if hours had passed. Yet it could only have been a minute or two since Splinter had hurried to join them, and less than that had elapsed before he'd arrived.

Donnie finally stilled, with a plaintive and confused whimper of pain that left Leo feeling sick to his stomach.

He saw Raphael grinding his teeth together, but a hiccupping sob from the entryway snatched at the leader's attention. There, clinging to the edge of the doorframe, stood a tearful Michelangelo.

How much had he seen? Leo quickly realised that it didn't matter. Mikey had clearly seen enough.

Standing, Leonardo barely took a step in that direction before Michelangelo flung against him. Words seemed to be futile, there was nothing he could say with any confidence that would reassure his youngest brother. Besides, he wasn't certain he could trust his voice not to betray his own emotions. So, Leo simply held Mikey in stoic silence, as the smaller turtle wept.

"It has passed, Donatello," Splinter was saying soothingly, as he gently stroked the side of his son's face. "Rest now, and recover."

"Sensei," Raph started. His voice was wound tight enough to break, as Leo suspected his own might be. "What… what was that? What just happened?"

"He had a seizure, Raphael. A fit. It is… not uncommon after head injuries. You had one yourself, when you were still young, after an accident."

Raphael looked startled at the revelation. "I did? I don't remember."

"That, too, is not uncommon."

Mikey finally pulled away from Leo and knelt beside him.

"Sensei, w-will Donnie be ok?" The anguish in Mikey's voice felt like another twist in Leo's already coiled guts.

Splinter looked like part of him wanted to reassure Michelangelo that all would be fine, but Leonardo knew that he could make no such promise while everything was so uncertain. The hesitation was long enough to cause fresh tears to spring up in Mikey's eyes, but also to allow for an unexpected answer.

"I… I'm f-f'n," Donnie mumbled, his eyes still closed as he feebly raised a hand and waved uncoordinatedly. "I'm ju-jus'… S-so tr'd…"

If anything, that made the tears worse. Mikey let out a wail of relief and, from the way Raph was chewing on his lower lip, it looked like he was fighting the same response. Leo couldn't deny that he, too, wanted to weep with joy at Donnie not only responding but having the wherewithal to provide a coherent answer.

"Then rest," Splinter suggested, "as that will aid your recovery."

There was no response for several moments. Before, unexpectedly, "I… I'm th-th'sty."

Now that was something Leonardo could do. To cling hold of an action to focus his attention towards, and dissipate some of the tense energy that had built within him. Donnie had barely finished speaking, as Leo was ready with a cup in hand.

"Raph, help me sit him up," he instructed. "Carefully!"

The look of daggers that Raphael shot him, clearly insulted at the insinuation that he'd be anything but careful, was a little unwarranted in Leonardo's opinion. But, he was mercifully silent as he reached out to do his part, carefully stretching a hand across the damaged shell and easing their brother to a more upright position, allowing him to drink.

Donnie, too weak to take any of his own weight, lolled like a ragdoll. But between the two of them they could hold him gently in place and tip some of the water into his mouth.

How much he managed to swallow seemed uncertain, as most of it seemed to dribble down his front. Some blood spilled out as well, which Leonardo sympathetically realised was from where Donatello had bitten his own tongue.

After a couple of mouthfuls, Donnie awkwardly jerked his face away from the waiting cup, which was enough of a signal that he was finished for both Leo and Raph to move as one to set him back down atop the blankets.

The silence that followed invited Leonardo to fill it.

"You all get some rest," he instructed. "I will-"

"No," Splinter overruled. "I have rested now, I will resume watching over Donatello. What he needs now is peaceful sleep, as do you all. It has been a long night."

As much as having his leadership oppressed rankled, there was no way that Leonardo was going to question Sensei's instructions. Especially when he couldn't deny that he was exhausted. Sleep earlier had just not come, which is why he'd ended up relieving Splinter in the first place. But, he was willing to give it another try.

"Hai, Sensei," Michelangelo answered, swiping at his eyes and offering an infectious smile that conveyed his restoration of hope.

"Oyasuminasai," Leonardo added, politely, before turning and escorting two of his brothers from the area.

Mikey bounded on ahead, chattering happily away. "He'll be fine. He said so himself!"

Just like his train of thoughts, Michelangelo's mood could change as swiftly as the weather, Leonardo thought mildly to himself.

"Soon as I wake up, I'll make breakfast," the youngest turtle then promised, throwing a grin back towards Leonardo. "I'm gonna prepare all of Donnie's favourites for him!"

"That won't take long," Leo managed to quip in response. It was a running source of amusement that their brother typically started the day with nothing but a mug of coffee.

The leader's tension dropped a little further, as he earned a beam from his youngest brother. The power of hope could not be underestimated.

Mikey grinned for another few seconds, before his freckled face abruptly parted in a wide yawn. "Well, see you guys tomorrow. Or later… Whenever in the day or night time it is."

With a shrug, the youngest turtle bounced over to his room. Meanwhile, in contrast, Raph was dragging his heels. Leo suspected he knew why. Stopping in his tracks as soon as Mikey's door had closed, he turned to face his brother.

"Raph, I'm sorry. I was just worried and… Look, what happened just now wasn't your fault," Leonardo apologised.

Now wasn't the time for them to be bickering amongst themselves, and he suspected Raphael was already shouldering more guilt than he deserved. This, hopefully, would help to ease it.

But, to his surprise, his brother visibly bristled at the apology. There were times when Leo just couldn't understand what went on inside Raph's hot head, and this was one of them.

Without even deigning to give a response, Raphael shouldered past and headed into his room, slamming the door behind himself. Leonardo watched, open mouthed in surprise, before reaching to press his fingertips to his brow.

He was the leader and the oldest of the four; he knew that he should do something to placate the outburst. But, he was tired. Too tired to think, and certainly too tired to deal with his brother having one of his temper tantrums. Raph was safe in his room, probably just as exhausted and simply in need of a night of sleep.

Setting his lips in a line, Leo turned and headed for bed.


	8. Chapter 7: Friends in high places

**Chapter 7: Friends in high places**

It took several minutes before a lull in the passing crowds gave the two teens a chance to slip, unseen, down the alleyway. The day was only just beginning to fade into evening, making it earlier than she would usually make this journey, but April could wait no longer.

She pulled the manhole cover ajar, allowing Casey to precede her in sliding down into the sewers. As he held his arms up, she had another quick glance back towards the main road to ensure she wasn't being watched, before passing down the boxes.

It wasn't until after dawn that Donatello had seemingly stabilised. At that point, when it became apparent there was nothing to do but wait, Splinter sent everyone away to seek rest.

For April and Casey, returning to their respective homes had been reinforced with the argument that they could best help by resting until daybreak, then spending time above ground obtaining additional supplies. Specifically, ones that could not be easily acquired by the mutants.

After several hours of tossing and turning while the school day progressed without her, wondering whether the turtles would let her know if the worst happened or wait until she arrived before telling her, April had given up trying to sleep. With more important things to worry about than school, instead she persuaded her Dad to take her to the store.

After gathering everything requested, she'd then sent a text to Leonardo to tell him she was on her way. But, there had been no response. April was still trying to decide whether that was a good thing or not. Frantically, she clung to the hope that it simply meant Leo was asleep.

Casey, it turned out, hadn't experienced the same problem with sleeplessness as she had. Nor did he share any remorse for cutting classes for the day. He was woken by April's call, then agreed without hesitation to help her carry the supplies down.

"Don't look so worried, Red," Casey said, as April slid the cover back into place before easing herself down into the sewer. "Donnie will be fine. He's tough. For a dork."

Grateful for his confidence, April offered her friend a smile. "Yeah. I… I hope you're right."

Picking up one of the boxes, she led the way down the familiar route towards the Turtle's lair.

It wasn't an easy path to follow, especially when burdened by boxes. As usual they avoided any of the nearer manhole covers, in case their enemies saw where they entered the underground. It would be much harder for them to be followed in the rabbit warren of service tunnels beneath the city.

Unfortunately, it did also mean that they had to pick their way along channels that were littered with decades of waste that had been swept down the storm drains. Then, they reached the areas that held much worse.

Months of practice had helped the two teens to discover the best paths to take and how to avoid the vilest. The stench never seemed to bother the turtles, and April had to admit she was becoming more tolerant to it over time. But it was still revolting.

The point where the tunnel opened into the subway was always the point where she could breathe in relief. For more than one reason. From there, it was only a short distance alongside the disused tracks before they reached the abandoned station where the turtles had made their home.

Hopping quickly up to the platform, with Casey hot on her heels, April lifted the box over her head and passed through the turnstiles to reach the area that the turtles had made into their lounge. Her nervous energy was reaching a peak, as she realised a new comprehension for the paradox of Schrödinger's cat.

"Yo, Leo!" Casey greeted, immediately directing April's attention over to where the turtle was heading from the kitchen with a mug clasped in his hands.

"Casey, April," Leo greeted.

He looked bleary, to April's eyes, but hope blossomed within her as she realised that what he didn't look was grief-stricken.

"Did you… Get my message?"

"Yeah, I…" He hesitated, then looked sheepish. "I forgot to respond, didn't I?"

Leonardo's look of genuine remorse made the subsequent apology unnecessary. "Sorry, April. I just… Things have been a bit crazy."

"Donnie's hanging in there," he quickly reassured her.

"Told you so," muttered Casey from behind her ear.

April nodded, relief rolling off her in waves. She raised the supplies she was carrying. "We brought everything that Master Splinter asked for."

Leo took a quick slurp from his mug, then set it down in favour of walking over to take the box from her.

"Thanks, April. I'll get this stuff sorted out. Donnie's in the dojo with Mikey and Sensei."

"Where's Raph?" she heard Casey ask, as she headed away.

"Still sleeping, I think."

April didn't linger to hear the rest of the conversation as she hurried towards the training hall. There, she was delighted to see that Donatello was not only alive, but awake! The halting discussion he was having with Splinter paused, as the fatherly rat looked up and gestured for her to enter.

Picking her way across the room, she listened in as the conversation continued.

"You are in the dojo, Donatello. Is your vision clear?"

"B-blu'ry. But… i's c-cl'rn."

"And you have sensation in all of your limbs?

"Uh…" there was a lull as he evidently needed to check. "H-hai. Sen… Sensei."

Michelangelo beamed excitedly at April as she crouched down beside him.

"He just woke up!"

The youngest turtle quickly scrambled to his feet. "I'm going to tell Raph and Leo! And-and I'm gonna get Donnie's stuff! He'll want his computer and his screwdriver and his bo staff and I even saved him a slice of pizza from yesterday!"

He reconsidered. "Or… Did I eat it?"

"Right now, he does not need any of those things, Michelangelo!" rebuked Splinter. But the turtle was already gone, leaving the old rat shaking his head.

Michelangelo's absence left space for April to slide in by Donatello's side, and Splinter moved up so she had room to lean in to Donnie's field of vision.

"Hey, D." she said, keeping her voice soft.

His delay before responding gave her chance to search his face. It was still pale, with shadows smudging around his eyes, but not to the deathly levels it had been the last time she'd seen him.

Her heart leapt in relief as she saw him slowly try to regard her, his gentle brown eyes struggling to focus. The endearing gap in his teeth was just visible, peeking through the slight parting of his lips. He was alive, it was a miracle!

"Apr'l." he eventually said, as if finally arriving at her name. A moment or two later his expression belatedly brightened, as if further realisation arrived. "Apr'l!"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm so glad you're ok."

After staring at her in confusion for several moments, his hand swayed drunkenly as he raised it. Eventually he got to his brow and started to drag backwards against the side of his head. "I… Wh-wha's..?"

Splinter intercepted the exploring fingers before they could reach the wound area. He gently, but firmly, pushed Donatello's arm back to his side.

"Don't touch," Splinter admonished. "You have sustained a head injury."

Donnie's brow furrowed. "Ev-ev'rywh'r hur's."

The rat's hesitated a moment before answering. "You have had several seizures."

Another long silence. "Oh."

"It… it r-r'lly hur's."

The choke of pain in his slurred voice made April wince in sympathy. She desperately wanted to embrace him, as if to protect him from the suffering. But, worried it might do more harm than good, instead she simply reached out to lightly envelope his fingers between her own.

His hand was trembling, she realised. Though whether that was from the pain, or cold, or another effect of his injury, she couldn't tell. After a moment of hesitation, she tightened her hold and was gratified to feel the clasp have positive effect as the quivering quietened.

Once she would have found the two-fingered hand to be disconcertingly alien, but not a trace of such thoughts remained. She couldn't pin point exactly when it had happened, but now when she saw her friend's unusual hands it just brought warm feelings. How many times had he offered it as help to get to her feet? How many times had she watched his surprisingly dexterous fingers dance across his laptop keyboard?

As much as April wanted to tell Donatello that she was so happy he was alive, after the dark hours where nothing had been certain, she felt that such a statement would provide her friend little comfort in his current condition. His unhappy silence, the lines of tension across his brow and even the set of his shoulders spoke clearer than any words.

"April," Splinter said, turning his amber eyes towards her. "Were you able to obtain any medication?"

"Oh, yes!" she gasped, as the words suddenly brought it to her mind. Of course, that would help far more than any hand holding! Inwardly cursing herself, she released Donatello and quickly got to her feet. "I'll fetch it right now, Master Splinter."

As he nodded in approval, she hurried towards the kitchen.

Leonardo had made some headway in unpacking the supplies, but it was evident as April approached that progress had halted.

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"He's not there, bro!" Michelangelo was explaining, waving his arms for emphasis. "The room's empty."

Leo groaned. "Oh great, just what we need right now."

"Raph's missing?" April guessed, as she pawed through the box.

"Dude, chill," interjected Casey, hands in his pockets. "He'll just be blowing off steam somewhere."

"He was… upset. We all were," Leonardo said, rubbing his brow. "But I didn't think… Rrgh. I'll go look for him. Mikey, you stay with—"

"Hey, just leave this to Casey Jones! I know where Raph goes to angst."

Casey's expression softened. "You guys should be here with Donnie. I got this."

"Thanks, Casey. We owe you one."

"I'll knock some sense into him for you," Casey offered, as he gathered his things to head out.

He was a good guy, April thought with a small smile. Sure, he could also be a childish jerk, but his heart was in the right place and he came through when it mattered.

As her hands finally closed on the medicine bottle, for the strong pain relief she'd had to persuade her Dad to lie to the pharmacist to obtain, she wasted no more time before rushing it back to where it was needed.


	9. Chapter 8: A walking explosion

**Chapter 8: A walking explosion**

He'd spent as long in his room as it had taken for Leo's door to clunk closed, then Raph abandoned the lair in preference of restlessly prowling the sewers. A part of him knew he should be trying to sleep, but the bigger part knew that either it wouldn't happen or, worse, it would invite back the nightmares.

Better to keep moving, to give his body something to do and hope that his mind would be kept suitably distracted. Then eventually, when he was tired enough, he would be able to fall into the easy, dreamless sleep that followed dogged exercise.

Several times he was cut off from the path he'd intended to take through the passageways, as usually empty overflow chambers were instead filled with reeking, stagnant waste. It smelt worse than normal, with a chemical undertone that made his head hurt. The waste water engineers must be trying a new treatment; hopefully they'd keep it away from the lair.

Raphael's winding path snaked beneath the West of Manhattan Island, before crossing over and travelling back alongside Central Park. Not that the turtle got to appreciate any of the usual sights that a tourist, or even citizen, would want to see. His view was somewhat different and, at length, he began to tire of the sewer architecture.

Ducking under a large pipe that spanned the path he was traversing, Raph kept moving until the route opened into a wide access tunnel that headed straight up. Gazing in that direction revealed pipes and cables crisscrossing the expanse before leading to where a tiny circle of light beckoned.

To proceed required climbing the slim metal handholds that were set into the stone walls, a challenge that Raphael attacked with relish. He could feel his muscles protesting as he passed the first marker, then the second, and still the ladder continued. By the time he reached the top, the turtle was forced to halt for several moments to recapture his breath and allow the trembling of overexertion to diminish.

The sunset was just starting to paint the sky with vivid oranges and reds, as Raph glanced through the lattice panel to the city above. The shadows were stretching out, inviting him into their murky embrace, despite the hustle and bustle he knew would be on the streets. The fact that Leo would insist it was still too early just made decision even easier.

Senses honed, the ninja moved down a side channel to the nearest manhole cover, from which he emerged into a litter strewn alleyway. That, in turn, led to a thin passage. It sliced between two buildings before opening into a small, disused courtyard where weeds and uncut grass vied for dominance. The area was overshadowed by the buildings that surrounded it. The mossy pathways were riddled with spidery cracks, while the single remaining bench was unusable, as it lurched tauntingly towards its missing leg.

In one corner of the forsaken area stood an aging fire escape, winding its way towards the sky. Caution would be required, as several of the brackets constraining it to the wall were almost rusted away. Challenge accepted without even a second thought, an empty flower stand gave the turtle the boost needed to reach the first level. Then with a light step, Raphael made his way towards the rooftop.

Upon reaching his target, he finally halted for a time to gaze out over this part of the city from the vantage point that height offered. His muscles were aching in such a way as to give fair warning that the worst was yet to come, after the marathon effort of the prolonged obstacle course, following more than a day and a night of no rest.

In a twisted kind of way, Raphael was looking forward to it. He deserved to ache. The pain was nothing compared to what his poor brother was going through.

Regret, sat patiently waiting for this moment within the confines of his mind, would be side lined no longer. Looming to the forefront, the weight of it reduced the strong-willed turtle to burying his face in his hands. If only he'd been paying proper attention to what was happening. If only he'd allowed Donatello to knock him to the floor on the first attempt.

Futile conjecture, but still the thoughts bombarded him in a relentless stream. All his strength, all his training, and yet he had not only failed to save Donnie; he had caused the problem.

If there was ever a list compiled of the worst big brothers in the history of the universe, Raphael was positive his name would now be permanently inscribed within it. And if Donatello didn't make it… His name would go straight to the top, with the incident used as an example of terrible brotherliness for the rest of eternity. He would make certain of it.

Leaning against the barrier surrounding the roof, hidden from clear view by the shadow of the building's water tower, Raphael lowered his hands and stared numbly at the streets below. At this time of day, they were buzzing like a beehive with people finishing up work or heading out for evening entertainment.

There was an element in truth to there being safety in numbers. But amongst crowds, light-fingered criminals could always be found. One was operating right before Raph's eyes, so obvious that it was impossible to miss.

A middle-aged man in a suit was the target, too busy jabbering away on his mobile phone to realise as the slender woman slipped by him and liberated the wallet from his back pocket. He walked on, oblivious of the wrongdoing that had just been committed.

The guy almost deserved to have his pocket picked. But, having seen the crime happen while simultaneously desperate to escape the torment of his own thoughts, Raphael couldn't just leave it alone. Holding the woman in his sights didn't prove to be too difficult. She darted down the next alleyway along, before pausing to examine her prize.

It was too easy. A sodden blanket scavenged from nearby went over her head and, by the time she removed it, the wallet and the one who had relieved her of it had disappeared. Her curse echoed past Raph, but he didn't care.

Bounding back the way he came, it was simpler than he'd expected for Raphael to locate the wallet's owner. The man had stopped on the street corner to continue his conversation, with the addition of animated hand gestures. Better yet, his back was to the alleyway where the turtle crouched in the shadows.

Raph had been intending just to drop the leather holder in front of the guy and let him ponder its miraculous arrival. But, as the pocket was so readily presented within an arm's stretch of a trash can, he impulsively decided to shove the wallet back where it had begun.

It was a little disappointing but not particularly surprising that the man paid the same attention to his property being returned as he had to it being stolen. As the call finished, he snapped the case to his mobile device shut and headed off in a hurry.

With a heavy sigh, Raphael stepped back again into the deeper shadows.

"Hey, Raph?"

It took every bit of ninja training he could muster to not leap out of his shell at the sudden utterance of his name. Whirling round, the turtle glared at the teen.

"What, Casey?!" he snapped.

Casey tilted his head slightly, picking at his ear. "I was just wondering… What did you slip to Don Vizioso's guy?"

"I was-" Raphael hesitated, "Don… Vizioso's guy? That was…"

His eyes widened slightly. Vic Fulchi. He'd just returned the wallet of Vic Fulchi, a known member of the Don's Mafiosi and a wanted criminal. With a growl of frustration, Raph smacked the edge of his fist against the wall. Could he do nothing right?

Casey put his hands up. "Whoa, I'm sure you've got your reasons, dude!"

"Come on," Raph snarled, not waiting to see whether Casey was actually following before he turned to pursue Vic and find some way to redo the right that he'd wronged.

"Was it gunpowder? Tell me it was gunpowder!" he heard Casey say.

Raphael ignored his friend in favour of hurrying to try and keep pace with Vic, while remaining safely hidden from view. Something that proved ultimately to be impossible, as the mobster joined the throng of people crossing to the far side of a busy junction. The move left his stalker stranded, gazing after with a conflicted expression that he fought to conceal behind a layer of anger.

"Leave this to Casey Jones."

With his usual gappy grin, Casey passed by the turtle before heading out of the alleyway to navigate the junction with the rest of the pedestrians. He glanced briefly back towards the shadows and, with a hand gesture, indicated 'call me'.

Raph would rather have punched him, but right now that wasn't an option. Instead, he was forced to vanish back down the alleyway and began the laborious task of scrambling up to the rooftops, where he could safely take the long route to the far corner of the intersection. Every movement caused his aching body to howl with complaint, but heedless to this he pressed on.

Skidding to a halt on the far rooftop, with neither Casey nor Vic in sight, the turtle was forced to pull out his T-phone and resort to tracking his wayward friend.

7 missed calls, 3 voice messages and 4 texts from Leonardo.

For a moment, Raphael stared blankly at the screen. His brother was obviously desperate to reach him.

Ignoring the tightening in his chest and the emotional turmoil that sought to choke him, Raph skipped past the alerts from Leo and loaded the screen to track Casey's mobile signal. A few seconds later, the icon appeared showing that the teen was heading East on Canal Street, towards Little Italy.

Made sense. Don Vizioso had several bases of operation in that area. Vic would be returning to one of them, probably relating to whatever that call had been about. Which meant Casey could be about to run into a whole heap of trouble, Raphael thought with a grimace.

Pressing the button to dial his friend, Raph simultaneously started making his way to the Italian district. It wasn't easy to move with stealth while holding the shell shaped cell to his ear, but he persevered regardless.

It took several rings before the devices connected. "I'm on Canal Street!" Casey immediately stated.

Raph frowned. "Yeah, I know. Donnie put- … We can track you, moron!"

The responding scoff was clearly audible. "Then why'd you call?"

"Because you're walking into more than you can handle. Scraping you off the pavement ain't my idea of a good time."

"Casey Jones can handle anything."

"Not this, Casey." The conversation was making Raph's head hurt. "Just… Just stop! Leave it. We'll go back another time."

"No way, dude! I wanna see his pants explode!"

"What?! No, you—"

There was a click before the phone fell silent, as Casey disconnected. Raphael lowered the device and stared at it with an equal measure of frustration and conflict. He contemplated just leaving the fool to his fate. But he couldn't. He couldn't let someone else get hurt.

Before he had chance to move, his T-phone leapt back into life as Casey called back.

Raph scrabbled to answer. "Casey!"

"Forgot to say… Leo wants you back at the lair. Gotta go – I wanna see Vic go boom!"

This time, the turtle let out a roar as the line went dead.


	10. Chapter 9: Wrong place, wrong crime

**Chapter 9: Wrong place, wrong crime**

The Mafioso was clearly distracted. He hurried onto Mulberry Street with barely a glance to ensure his own safety, jaywalking in his haste and almost tripping up the curb on the far side of the street. It was therefore easy as a slice of pizza pie for Casey to slip after him.

Trying to walk nonchalantly with the turn of speed required did prove a bit challenging, but fortunately no-one seemed particularly interested in where the teen was hurrying to. Especially not his mark. The odd person who did glance his way got a flash of his best winning smile, prompting every one of them to quickly avert their eyes.

When Vic finally reached his destination, the entryway would have appeared innocuous if the door wasn't hanging off its hinges with a big rend down one side. Silencing a temptation to comment, Casey slipped into a convenient alleyway on the opposite side of the side street that offered a clear view of what was happening.

The specifics of the knock were muffled, but he watched as the remainder of the door was pushed out of the way so that Vinnie, Vic's brother, could step out. The two brothers shared a quick embrace, before parting to speak. Leaning as far as he dared from behind the safety of the trash cans, Casey was pleased to discover he could make out the conversation.

"Finally!"

"What did they take?" Vic demanded.

Vinnie shook his head regretfully. "The xylene. All of it."

Vic hissed angrily through his teeth. "The Don ain't gonna be happy about this. Who was it?"

"Muties."

"Always those meddling muties. We oughta take care of 'em once and for all!"

"I hear ya. I told the Don and all, but he ain't listening. Too concerned with snatchin' that Chef from—"

A metallic clatter from behind where Casey was crouching was punctuated with a curse. The boy's eyes widened, as he saw both the Fulci twins immediately turn in his direction.

"They're back!"

"Get them!"

"Aw, nuts," Casey grumbled, before turning to glare at Raphael. "Some ninja you are."

Raph glared back at him, hopping and rubbing his ankle where he'd evidently clipped one of the other trash cans when he jumped down. "You wanna see ninja? Because I got a few moves to share with ya."

"Share with them," Casey suggested, grabbing his hockey stick and jabbing it towards the two approaching mobsters.

The first puck he sent flying towards the brothers went slightly wide and was easily dodged, but the second found its mark and exploded against Vic's chest in a cloud of smoke. Casey was disappointed that the spark didn't trigger the exploding powder he was sure Raph must have planted in the man's back pocket. He'd just have to try it again.

Kicking the wheels onto his shoes to create the improvised skates, Casey slid easily out of the way as the mob members fired retaliation shots. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Raphael dive clear as well, before leaping to kick the gun out of Vinnie's hands.

Casey knew Raph could handle one mob member without even breaking a sweat, so turned his attention back to his own fight. A grim smile set itself upon his face. He'd make sure to take Vic down, by himself, in record time. Then he might finally get the respect he deserved!

Vic fired again, but the teen was ready for it and skated easily aside. Swooping in, he hooked the gun with his hockey stick. A quick flick of his hands and the weapon was torn from the mobster's hold. Coming to ground with a clatter, the gun went skittering across to teeter at the edge of an exposed storm drain.

Mesmerised, and well beyond reach of grabbing it, both Vic and Casey watched as the weapon wobbled for several seconds. It stilled and seemed to have settled on the very edge of the drain, but then slowly tipped over to plunge down into the sewers.

"No!" Vic cried in frustration. However, he didn't fret for long, quickly drawing knives with which to continue the fight.

"We got no more xylene," he snapped, with a slash towards Casey's chest, "What're yous after this time?!"

Casey shook his head, skittering out of the way. Using a sweeping blow of his hockey stick, his attempt to knock Vic off his feet missed. "We didn't take your stuff! I don't even know what zy… zyla… that stuff is!"

"Liar!"

"No, really! It wasn't us!"

Vic's lip curled in a snarl. "Then why are you here?!"

"Uh…" Casey realised it probably wasn't a good idea to tell Vic that he just wanted to see his butt explode into flames. But with the truth unusable, he couldn't come up with a convincing lie in time.

Vic seemed reassured of Casey's involvement and leapt determinedly at the youth. A swipe with the blade clipped the teen's shoulder, but only succeeded in slicing another chunk out of his already ragged top. As Vic's momentum sent him stumbling forward, Casey took advantage of their positions to continue his movement, sliding round behind the Mafioso.

With enough distance between them to send another puck flying, and the man positioned to present such an easy target, Casey couldn't resist. This time, he landed the detonation directly on Vic's back pocket.

"YES!" Casey cheered, eyes widening excitedly in anticipation for the impending boom.

But it didn't come. Instead, the explosive force of the puck just sent the man falling flat onto his face. Making a brief effort to stand, he subsided with a groan and elected instead to remain on the tarmac.

Disappointed, Casey skated closer. "Aw, it was just his wallet…"

His brow furrowed in confusion. Why had Raphael been messing with Vic's wallet?

Turning to his friend, he was even more surprised to see that Vinnie had Raph on the defensive. Both sais had been sent skittering away and now the turtle was using his forearms to deflect the blows and keep the knife away as he searched for an opening.

Casey saw at least three, but to his surprise Raphael didn't take them. He seemed to be moving sluggishly, which could be in part due to a nasty looking gash on his thigh that was trickling blood down his leg. But, more than that, he seemed distracted.

Sympathy bubbled up in the teen. Raph was more messed up than he'd realised. After watching his friend struggle for another few moments, Casey realise he needed to help him out.

Timing it carefully, he sent another puck flying. It clipped Vinnie in the side of the head, sending him careening into the wall. His brow collided against the bricks with a satisfying crunch. Blood trickling down his forehead, the man slumped to his knees and then fell onto his side with a groan.

"V-Vinnie-!" Casey heard Vic cry, as he started crawling towards his brother.

The fight was over. Not only had it scored three direct hits - his hockey stick had survived! With a gleeful grin, Casey stuck his new favourite weapon back through the shoulder strap before turning to Raph. The turtle was busily retrieving his sais.

"Did you see?" Casey gloated. "I nailed them both!"

"Yeah, whatever. Let's go already!" Raphael didn't seem particularly impressed. In fact, if anything, he seemed despondent.

Casey's expression calmed. "You ok, dude?"

"It's just a scratch," Raph retorted, as he turned and limped towards the alleyway.

That hadn't been what Casey meant, but he kept the silence going as the two teens headed down the manhole cover and back into the sewers. It was only after they'd been walking for several minutes that he tried again to get his friend talking.

"Donnie woke up."

A monosyllabic grunt didn't provide the response he was looking for.

"He'll be ok, Raph."

No reaction at all this time.

"Mikey and Leo were worried about you."

There was a fraction of a hesitation. "Well, then they're idiots."

"Raph!" Casey grabbed his friend's shoulder, causing his friend to spin and face him.

"What, Casey?!"

Dedicating a moment to look, the exhaustion was so clear in Raphael's face that Casey was surprised he hadn't realised the extent of it earlier. The turtle's green eyes were hazed and bruising he hadn't noticed before was creeping up from the jawline.

"You gotta stop this," Casey insisted.

A sullen look crept over Raph's features. "Stop what?"

"Beating yourself up!"

Anger flared. "I'm not… Rrgh! Just leave me alone, Jones!"

Casey shook his head. "No way! We're friends, aren't we? Friends look out for one another! I've got your back, dude."

That elicited a look of shock that he hadn't been expecting.

"What? No! I don't want it. I don't want it!" Raphael clenched his fists. "I'm not gonna let anyone else get hurt."

"Dude, do you even hear yourself? You're a ninja, fighting against wicked strong evil guys! You're gonna get hurt. Those fighting with you are gonna get hurt."

Emotion was thickening the turtle's voice. "No… Not on my watch. Not again."

For a split second, Casey wished that it was April here. He was sure that she'd come up with just the right thing to say that would sooth the turtle's spirits. But she wasn't, and he'd started this, so he figured he may as well plough onwards and see what happened.

At least Raphael was too tired to aim straight if he decided to take it to fists, Casey consoled himself, as he prepared to launch into a tirade.

"You're the one hurting everyone right now!"

The open-mouthed shock gave him the chance to press on.

"Instead of ditching them, so you can run around the city pretending like nothing happened, you should be supporting them. Everyone's upset, and now they gotta worry about you as well! You think the only pain is physical?

Dude, you can't change what happened. But you can fix the future! So, quit moping and start helping."

Bracing himself to dodge the blow, as Raph's predictable reaction was to raise a fist with a look of fury in his bloodshot eyes, Casey was surprised when it didn't come. Instead, the turtle seemed stuck in motion for several drawn-out seconds before, slowly, he lowered his hand.

Raphael's mouth worked, as if he was trying to find words. But at length he gave up and turned away with fists clenched at his sides. His face was a mess of emotions which seemed to be barely contained by a thinning veil of anger.

Without another word, nor a backwards glance, Raph set off along the tunnel and took the turning towards the lair.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Casey followed. Briefly he wondered whether he'd made the situation better or worse. Then he shrugged. No point worrying about it now, he'd said what he'd said and would deal with the outcome accordingly.


	11. Chapter 10: Real people

**Chapter 10: Real people**

Michelangelo knelt attentively by his brother's side. His bottom was down, his back straight and his palms resting on his thighs, in a perfect demonstration of seiza. An unexpected smile of pride was on the turtle's face; he'd been left with the important task of watching over Donatello as he slept, while Sensei got some rest.

Leonardo had gone with April to try and get Donatello's computer running, so they could start gathering the data from the trucks that the tracking devices had been attached to. Although, his eldest brother did keep popping his head into the dojo every few minutes for increasingly tenuous reasons. Michelangelo was starting to suspect they were just excuses to check on him.

It just made him even more determined to perform his weighty duty to absolute perfection. Mikey had now been sitting still for longer than he'd thought was possible. He'd felt antsy initially, but now he was starting to get into the swing of it.

First, he'd watch the slow rise and fall of Donnie's shoulders as his brother took restful breaths, making sure they weren't deeper or shallower than seemed normal. Mikey even counted the inhalations, until they got to sixty or he lost track.

Then he'd watch his brother's face, checking that the expression was still one of peaceful slumber and that colour matched the same shade of green it had been at the previous check. After one near miss, he'd added in the additional task of ensuring there was no dribble of saliva that needed wiping.

Following that was a specific focus on the wound site, making sure that the bandage was still in place and that nothing was oozing through the gauze. It had been fine so far, but Mikey wasn't going to take any chances!

Finally, he moved on to checking that there was no trembling in any of his brother's hands or feet that might indicate his brother was cold and needed another blanket. Or, worse, that another seizure might be imminent.

Not that Michelangelo was sure what he would do if Donatello did start having a fit. Scream for help was mostly his plan, but the idea of that being the only action he could take scared the living daylights out of him. Witnessing his brother in that condition was a sight that couldn't be unseen.

He shivered. Poor Donnie. What did it feel like? Was he even aware what was happening? It must hurt, Mikey was sure of it.

Sympathetically, avoiding the bandage that covered part of it, he reached to stroke a hand over his brother's shell.

"It'll be ok, D," he said, soothingly. "You'll be ok. I'm watching over you!"

Satisfied that if his brother could hear him he would be suitably comforted, Michelangelo knelt back into proper sitting once more and began his routine all over again. He was doing well, he reassured himself. Leo could relax, because Mikey had everything under control!

It wasn't until he heard voices in the living area that Michelangelo's attention finally started to wobble from where he was trying his best to keep it focused. At first the voices were muffled, as the owners were stood some distance away. But as they moved closer, he started to make out words.

"What happened?" Leo was asking.

"Nothing we couldn't handle," came Casey's boasting reply.

We? That meant he must have found Raph and brought him back, Mikey realised happily.

April's high voice carried easily. "Your leg! It's bleeding!"

Oh no, one of them was hurt! Michelangelo moved to stand and hurry to see for himself, but then hesitated and glanced down at Donatello. He couldn't leave him… It was his job to watch over his brother.

But, his friend or his other brother could be hurt. He hadn't heard Raph say anything. Why hadn't he said anything? Was Raphael ok?

Indecision manifested physically in Michelangelo. He sucked at his lip as he dithered between sitting and standing, his gaze flicking back and forth between the doorway and the prone body of Donatello.

"Ow!"

That was definitely Raphael, and it was the cry of pain that jolted Michelangelo to decision. Hurrying over to the doorway, he stood there and went no further as he struck a balance between keeping an eye on Donatello while also satisfying his worried curiosity.

April had the first aid kit in her hand and was busy prodding at a bloodied wound on Raph's leg. It couldn't be too bad, Mikey realised in relief. His brother was still standing, albeit uncomfortably, and from the awkward angle seemed more annoyed than in pain over the ministrations being applied.

"It was… Just a little fight." he grumbled.

"It was wicked!" Casey interjected, with animated enthusiasm. "We ran into those mob twins outside one of Don Vizioso's places."

"Why were you there?!" Leonardo asked in exasperation, but his question was ignored.

"I took Vic down with a puck right to the butt. Then, Vinnie got a direct head shot."

Casey emphasised the words with a fist into his own cupped hand. "Pow! He went headfirst into the wall."

"There was so much blood! It was _sick_!" he concluded gleefully.

Michelangelo's stomach lurched, as his mind suddenly felt like it had detached from his body and was floating amorphously around his head. A memory, burning through his mind. He was crouched in the rain outside the warehouse, hearing those same words, but from the lips of their enemies.

"No!" Mikey heard himself yell, though he couldn't remember opening his mouth.

Abruptly, everyone turned to look in his direction.

"Mikey, are you ok?" April asked.

Before he could respond, Leonardo cut in with frustration. "Mikey! You're supposed to be watching Donnie."

With his consciousness and body having a jolting reunion, like an over taut elastic band snapping suddenly back into place, Michelangelo was reduced to gaping like a fish for several seconds as his eldest brother crossed the floor towards him.

"Forget it," Leo snapped. "I'll watch Donnie. You go and… Just do whatever. Without leaving the lair! I've had enough of that today."

"But I—" Mikey started, cut off as his brother pushed past him to get into the dojo.

Michelangelo ground his teeth together, fighting a sudden urge to both cry and scream at the same time. He'd been trying his hardest! He'd only stepped away for a moment, and he could still see Donatello slumbering peacefully from where he was standing.

Scryeam, Mikey decided, should be a new word. It made sense, and it was reassuringly familiar to ice-cream. Which, the turtle decided, was what he needed right now.

"Fine. I'll do _whatever_ ," he sulked, dragging himself towards the kitchen.

He could feel the eyes of the others on his shell. But, as he paused at the doorway and glanced back towards where April, Casey and Raphael were hovering around the makeshift seating, he saw they'd gone back to examining his brother's wound.

Sullenly, Michelangelo stomped into the kitchen and grabbed the bowl from the side. Opening the freezer, he held it out invitingly.

"C'mon, Ice-cream Kitty. Let's go read some comics."

The ice-cold cat could always warm his heart. With a happy meow, she slid eagerly over to drop into the proffered bowl. Mikey reached to scoop ice-cubes in with her, to slow down any risk of melting, then carried the whole lot to his bedroom.

Setting the cat-in-a-bowl down onto his bed, he flopped beside her and rolled over onto his shell. The comics were forgotten, as instead he found himself glaring at the ceiling as if it had wronged him somehow. But, after a few minutes, he realised that the ceiling was not going to provide him any kind of meaningful answer. Although, there was a crack that from this angle looked a bit like a flamingo.

"They're real people," Mikey eventually said.

The words elicited a mew, combined with an attentive head tilt, from his dairy companion. The turtle rolled his head to the side to beam at her.

"You're adorable!"

With a sigh, he went back to contemplating the ceiling. "Vic and Vinnie. They're our enemies, but… They're real people. Vinnie got hurt, just like Donnie did. Then, Casey and the others…"

Michelangelo abruptly rolled over onto his elbows. "It's no different. We're just as bad as they are! Gloating over defeating our enemies."

His normally cheerful face fell into sadness. "Are they at home now, worrying just like we're worrying?"

He rested his head down onto his forearms. "Does that mean we're baddies too?"

There was another meow from next to his face. He felt the cool tickle of ice cream running down the side of his cheek, from where Ice-cream Kitty reached out to pat him. Stretching with his tongue to lick up the melting trail, he gave her a weak smile.

"Yeah, I know. I should believe in them, huh? We stop all the evil world domination plans. And we don't take over the world ourselves! So that makes us the good guys."

"Beating up the bad guys… It kinda felt like a game," Mikey added. "But now I…"

His words trailed out, as he miserably picked at a bobble on the fabric of his blanket. "I just dunno."


	12. Chapter 11: Big brother's burden

**Chapter 11: Big brother's burden**

Dropping down to sit by his injured brother's side, Leonardo let out a sigh that barely did justice to the weariness that weighed upon him. Seeing Donatello resting peacefully, with everything for his care set neatly nearby but obviously used, triggered a bubble of guilt over the way he'd snapped at Michelangelo.

Bringing his knees to his chest, the turtle hugged them to himself. With Donnie's injury and Raph seemingly hell bent on a self-destructive spiral, Mikey had been his best source of support amongst his brothers. Had he just sabotaged that?

No, Mikey was upset but he'd cool off fast. Compared to his more temperamental brothers, the younger turtle was much less inclined to fly off the handle or hold a prolonged grudge. For that, the leader was immensely grateful. He had enough to worry about already.

The peace of the dojo was calming for the first few minutes, but as more ticked by it became increasingly oppressive. The silence seemed to saturate the air, making it difficult to breathe.

"We borrowed your computer," Leo suddenly said, shattering the quiet. Although, he was positive his brother wouldn't hear him.

The latest dose of medication had only been given an hour ago, and a soporific effect was listed amongst the side effects. Combined with his brother being hazy to start with, the result had been to drop him into a deep but seemingly painless sleep.

It was what Donatello needed to heal, but meant that he needed monitoring constantly in case there were complications. After all, although they could guess the effects would be similar, they didn't know exactly what the human medicine might do to a mutant. Nor did they know what any of the ongoing effects would be of his injury.

Even though he knew it was meaningless, Leo found himself driven by a desire to talk to his brother. _At_ his brother, he corrected.

"I hope you don't mind us borrowing it," Leonardo continued.

Of course he wouldn't, the voice in his mind chided. Donatello was unconscious.

"We... We went back to the depot. They were moving out, but we managed to bug the trucks. With the trackers you made. Thanks, by the way."

Would Donnie ever invent anything for them again?

"Um, so April figured out the program you wrote. She's checking where the trucks went. At least, she was. I think she's helping put Raph back together now."

The bitterness was clearly audible. Just what was Raphael thinking? Did he get kicks out of making a difficult situation worse?

"He'll be fine," Leonardo quickly reassured his brother, as if the words might have worried him. "You… You protected him, Don. You're a hero."

Reaching out, he patted his brother's arm. The conversation was feeling increasingly awkward, as Donatello gave all the response of a shop floor mannequin. His breathing didn't even change pattern as Leonardo's fingers touched his skin.

It was futile. Donnie had no idea what was happening. Would he ever get better? Or would his bright and intellectual brother be gone forever, replaced by a vacant shadow of his former self?

"Don't worry," Leo added, struggling to keep his voice level. "You'll be ok. You'll get through this. We're all here for you, Donnie. No matter what happens. We'll look after you. Always. So… so don't worry about a thing."

Grief rose, forcing the turtle to swallow hard to prevent it from surfacing. This wouldn't do, he had to keep it together! He was the leader, he had to stay strong for the sake of his family.

"I do not believe it is Donatello who is currently worrying."

Leonardo quickly straightened, looking over to where Splinter stood in the doorway that lead to his chamber. Their father leant upon his stick, evidently still wearied, but his eyes were clearer than they had been earlier before he'd retired to snatch another hour or two of rest.

Under his master's scrutiny, Leo dropped his gaze downwards. He stole the chance to subtly rub one eye. "Will he…will he ever be the same, Sensei?"

"No."

It felt like a hand had gripped Leonardo tight around the throat and was refusing to let go. He hadn't been expecting Splinter to so abruptly shatter what little hope that remained.

"Nothing remains the same. Everything is always changing."

Leo slowly released the breath he'd been holding. It was a rhetorical answer, not the direct response he'd feared. Which meant that Sensei must believe there was still a chance that Donnie would pull through, that with time and rest he would recover without any lasting damage.

His gaze drifted down to his younger brother's face. So familiar and yet, right now, it felt like it was barely recognisable. The bandage was a poor substitute for his purple mask, and the bruising had come through in a striking display of colours that spilled out beyond the gauze. Beneath the pad…

There was going to be scarring, Leonardo knew that a wound so bad could never heal without a trace. Would that upset Donatello? They all had blemishes, some worse than others, but nothing like this. His mask would cover the worst of it, hopefully.

The gouge out of his shell would be less easy to disguise. They had cleaned the damage, as best they could, and dressed it with sterile pads. It would heal, but the intricate pattern would be forever changed. The thought made Leonardo feel sad. He brushed his fingers over the ridged surface, along the edge of where the gauze was taped. He knew the unique contours of his brothers' shells better than he knew his own.

It was on the wrong shoulder for Donnie's belt strap to hide. Would he adjust the strap to have it cross both shoulders, to hide the gash? Or…

Leonardo shut his eyes at the same time as he shut off his train of thoughts. He was such a fool, worrying about cosmetic complaints Donatello might have. His brother could still die. He could be brain damaged. Whether he had a new scratch on his shell was the least of his worries.

A hand touching his shoulder made Leo jump. He quickly jerked to stare at Splinter with wide blue eyes that glistened too brightly, as the old rat knelt beside him.

"Leonardo."

"S-sensei." The wobble of his voice shocked the teen. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd delivered the word in such a tearful way.

An arm crossed his shell, pulling the turtle into an embrace.

"I… I don't know what t-to do." Leo confessed, shoulders slumped miserably. "For Donnie, or Raph, or Mikey… And our enemies are still out there, getting more powerful by the day! I'm trying, I-I'm really trying. But I'm just… I'm making things worse. Mikey, earlier… He was…he was really making an effort and I… And Raph, now he's…"

"My son," Splinter gently cut in, as Leonardo's articulation deteriorated. "There are things you cannot remedy, no matter how hard you try. No matter how much you want to."

With no words to respond the turtle just covered his face, as if his father wouldn't know of tears he couldn't see.

"Waiting is hardest when you are desperate to act, yet time is often the only solution. Be patient, Leonardo. With your brothers, and with yourself."

No further guidance was offered or required. Leonardo simply sat in Splinter's silent, supportive hold for a period that could have been anything from a few minutes to over an hour. The firm but gentle feel of his father's long fingers on his shoulder was a comfort, and the familiar tickle of fur against the top of his head nurtured a childlike feeling of safety.

At length, with a slow exhale, the teenager raised his head. His eyes, shining like a moonlit lagoon, were steeled with resolve once more.

Words weren't needed. Leo simply shared a quick glance with his father that concluded with a nod of understanding from them both. The turtle then reached out to gently touch his brother's hand, before climbing back to his feet.

Leaving Splinter to watch over Donatello, Leonardo headed back into the living area. What he found was calmer than he'd been expecting; April was curled up with Donnie's laptop, while Casey was flicking through some of Raph's comics.

As Leo entered, the two humans glanced over towards him. For Casey, it was a fleeting look, as he turned back to reading about the adventures of the food groups. However, April lowered the computer and got back to her feet. She looked tired, her face was flushed and her eyes shadowed.

"Raph's in his room," she explained, before the turtle could ask. "I tried to clean his injury up, as much as he would let me. I put some steri-strips on and bandaged it, but I'm… I'm not as good as Donnie or Master Splinter. It might need stitches. He'll need to stay off his leg."

Casey chuckled. "I don't think that'll be a problem. He was beat. Soon as he heard Donnie was doing ok, he pretty much passed out on the spot. You're not gonna see him again until tomorrow."

"Speaking of which…" April stifled a yawn. "Leo, do you need anything else right now?"

Leonardo shook his head, carefully clearing his throat before he dared use his voice. "N-no, thanks April. We really appreciate, y'know, everything. You too, Casey."

April smiled, brushing the turtle's arm with her fingers. "Ok. I'll just see Donnie, then we'll head off. Call me if anything changes, ok?" she insisted, searching Leonardo's face until he nodded.

Yawning widely, she turned and headed towards the dojo. Her steps were unsteady, as if the tiredness was affecting her balance. Leo watched her go, concern approaching from where it had been temporarily quelled.

"I'll make sure she gets home ok," Casey said, not even looking up from the comic.

A slight smile raised the corners of the turtle's mouth, as he felt that worry dissipate like a wave on the shore. "Thanks."

Leaving Casey to it, Leonardo turned and headed towards the bedrooms. But rather than aiming for his own, he stopped outside Michelangelo's door. Reaching up, he tapped his knuckles against it.

"Mikey?"

There was a slight scuffle of movement and the creak of the bed frame, then the pad of feet on the floor before the door opened to present his befreckled little brother.

"Yo, bro!" Michelangelo greeted, in a cheerful enough demeanour to belay Leonardo's earlier fears. However, the expression sobered as the younger turtle searched his brother's face before adding a worried, "Everything ok?"

Quickly, Leo sought to reassure him. "Everything's fine."

"Can you go and give Splinter a hand watching Donnie?" he asked, before adding, "You were doing good job earlier."

Like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, Mikey's face broke into a smile. "Did you just admit you were wrong?"

Leonardo squirmed. "No! Yes? Maybe. Ok, I'm sorry! I just—"

He was cut off by Michelangelo laughing. For a split second the sound was jarring, but the warmth of it spread like a wildfire.

"Apology accepted!" Mikey declared, shooting his brother a grin before turning to fetch Ice-cream Kitty and head down towards the living area. He hummed as he went, a tune that Leo vaguely recognised as a jingle from the television.

The weight of worry wasn't completely lifted, but Leonardo felt like the chill on his heart had been thawed. He didn't have to try and shoulder all responsibility by himself; his friends and family were by his side.


	13. Chapter 12: Hold the hugs

**Chapter 12: Hold the hugs**

Donatello wasn't sure how long he spent in a haze of opiate based drugs, nor at the time did he particularly care. The medication was replaced with milder pain relief before an addiction could have chance to build, and it was only then that the turtle finally started to have some lingering comprehension of events and conversations held around him.

Snatches of familiar voices talking, the feel of hands moving his body. Liquids were poured down his throat, but he couldn't reliably tell what they were. People were taking care of him, but he got confused over who. He struggled to put anything into any semblance of order, or recall with clarity things that he felt he ought to know.

The return to a more coherent level of awareness didn't happen suddenly. There were conversations Donatello was sure he'd had, but when he considered again he suspected he might have been dreaming. There were times he believed he'd been looking up at familiar faces, but later struggled to convince himself it had really happened.

Light, slowly building on the far side of his eyelids, was the first thing that Donnie became aware of with a clarity beyond anything he'd felt recently. Then, his hearing picked up the sound of someone moving about. There was the occasional tap of buttons, to one side of where he was lying.

It felt like different parts of his body were loading one at a time in safe mode, after an abrupt reboot of his entire system. As his sensual awareness increased, he noticed different things. A dull ache at the back of his head, tingling pain down the sides of his tongue, cool air grating against his dry throat, throbbing bruises on his limbs, the gnawing discomfort of his empty stomach.

Tentatively, the turtle opened his eyes. He gave one slow blink, then another. His eyes felt gritty, he wanted to rub them clean but didn't quite feel up to persuading his arms to move. For now, he was satisfied just to encourage his tear ducts to do their job.

At first, everything was a blur, but it didn't take too long for the hazy shapes to form into objects he could identify. Carefully, he moved his eyes about and searched his field of vision to put together a clearing image of his current location. Rugs, stretching out to blanket the floor. The trunk of a tree, winding upwards and spilling out into a tangle of leaf covered branches.

Beneath it, sat engrossed with his t-phone, was a familiar figure. Donatello's eyes slowly explored the face, taking in the curve of the features and the blue of the eyes. A name, he had a name for this person. His brother. His brother's name. It was there, in his mind. He knew it! Why couldn't he find it?

It felt like the server banks of his mind had been toppled over. When he referenced the index file and travelled to the location specified, he found the rack lying uselessly on the floor. The drives and their files were in a pile beneath it, along with an unnavigable mess of cable spaghetti.

Before Donatello had chance to locate the information he was searching for, the nearby figure glanced over towards him. Initially just a cursory glance, it quickly bloomed into a look of excitement and the electronic device was dropped onto the ground.

"Donnie? You awake, bro?"

Mikey! There it was. At the sound of his emphatic voice, the name popped up as if it had never been missing. Michelangelo, his youngest brother. Loud. Infuriating. Adorable. Someone he cared deeply for. Someone who cared for him in return.

It felt like the labelled hard drive of information was in his hand, ready to be plugged back in…if only he could find the right cables for it.

Still eagerly awaiting an answer, Mikey pointed to himself. "You know who I am this time, right? Right?"

Before any sound he tried to make in response to his brother's insistent question would manifest, Donatello had to swallow several times to rehydrate his parched mouth. Even then, the words still came out as more of a croak than anything else.

"Y-ye'h, M-Mikey…"

The beam that lit up his little brother's face made the effort of speaking worthwhile. However, the hug that promptly followed it almost made Donnie regret opening his eyes in the first place. Spasms of pain shot throughout his body, as Mikey threw himself over it and tried to encapsulate his prone form in an awkward hold.

"Aa-aah!" Donatello gasped, unable to find strength or co-ordination amongst his limbs to throw his brother off. Panic started to set in, as he realised that he was almost completely helpless. Fortunately, the sound was enough to make Mikey reconsider the embrace and quickly let go.

"You ok?" his brother asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"I was," Donnie grumbled, not about to admit the fact that his heart was racing in fear. "Unt'l you d-decid'd to o-overl'd my… My n-n-neur'l circu's."

Spitting out words was a lot more difficult than it ought to be. It wasn't helped by the sides of his tongue stinging with every movement. Had he bitten it?

He knew what he needed to do to speak. He formed the sentence and gave the command to be executed by his body. But for some reason the signal seemed to drop packets of data on route and then struggle to retrieve them.

To his surprise, Michelangelo grinned excitedly and reached out to gently pat his shoulder. The tender act sent a fresh shockwave of pain down the Donatello's arm.

"Now that's the Donnie I know!" his brother said cheerfully, before reconsidering. "Well, except for the slurring."

Donatello clenched his jaw and took an extra few moments to prepare before speaking again. It inexplicably made things worse. "I's… i's dif-dif-dif'cult t-t' talk!"

"Then don't talk," Michelangelo offered, with surprising logic. "I'll talk! Dude, I am awesome at talking."

Awesome was not the word Donnie would have used, but he couldn't muster the fervour to object.

"So," Mikey started, before hesitating. "Uh, wow, this is harder than I thought. What do you want me to talk about? Oh, I guess you'd have to talk to answer that. That's no good, huh? Ah, I know! I'll get a pen and paper!"

Suspecting that right now the chances of poking his own eye out with a pen were greater than forming a legible word, Donatello quickly opened his mouth to stutter a protest.

"N-no! J-jus'… jus' t'l me… t'l me w-wha' hap'nd. I d-don'… I don' r-r'mb'r…"

Michelangelo considered that. "What don't you remember?" he asked, unhelpfully.

Donnie wanted to fix his brother with a glare. However, he suspected the look didn't quite manifest as he'd been intending, as Mikey's response was to tilt his head quizzically.

"Well, I'll just start from the beginning!" the younger turtle abruptly decided, with a cheery grin. "It was sixteen years ago when we all hatched out of our eggs…"

It was only the events leading up to whatever had happened to render him debilitated in the dojo that Donatello had intending to acquire. He had taken a blow to the head; that much seemed obvious. Or had someone told him? He couldn't recall.

He briefly considered correcting his brother to try and get the specific information he was after, but decided that at least Michelangelo regurgitating a lifetime of memories would prevent him from inflicting any more hugs for a while.

The time would also allow him more opportunity to piece things together for himself, which is what Donnie started to do. After carefully cataloguing his memories, the last thing he could clearly recall happening was setting out on a mission with his brothers. It had been gloomy, with rain hanging threateningly in the clouds above. There was a warehouse, and then…

That was when everything started to peter out. He could just dredge snippets; a creaking noise, the sound of someone yelling? No, he couldn't remember. Whatever had happened, that information was gone. From that, he deduced that he'd been injured on the mission.

How, he had no idea. Had he been hit with a missile? Had he fallen off the building? Cringing inwardly, he hoped that he'd not done anything too embarrassing. If he'd simply slipped on a patch of oil and bashed his head on a lamp post, his family would never let him hear the end of it.

Donatello didn't remember closing his eyes again. But, as he tried to look up at his brother, he realised he must have done. Frustration building, he re-opened his eyes. He prepared to voice some questions, now he had some of the pieces of the puzzle laid out. But the words died in his mouth as he realised Michelangelo was gone.

"—decided to take a nap," he suddenly realised his brother was explaining, from somewhere behind him.

Gritting his teeth, Donnie tensed the muscles in his neck and shoulders as he prepared to roll over. The effort of such a simple movement was more than he'd been expecting. A stab of pain in the back of his head sent bright colours dancing over his vision and almost made him give up, but the realisation that it would hurt just as much to return to his original position encouraged him to persevere.

His laboured movement concluded and, after a few seconds, the spots faded so he could see once more. But, to the turtle's dismay, he realised his vision had now doubled. Mikey was stood on both the left and the right side, staring towards him.

"He moved!"

That wasn't Michelangelo's voice. Furrowing his brow, Donatello directed more effort into making out who he was looking at. It was made both easier and harder as the twin turtle shapes surged forward to crouch eagerly in front of him, filling his vision and then overwhelming it.

"Donnie! How are you feeling?"

The question wasn't a difficult one, but answering it was. Just how was he feeling? There were so many different elements, it was hard to pick just one to focus on. Besides, he was still busy looking for something else.

"Uh…"

"He said talking was hard," Mikey chipped in.

"L-Leo!" Donatello said, triumphantly, as he finally found what he'd been looking for. His eldest brother, the leader of their team. Sensible. Obedient. Fastidious. The reliable one, Leonardo would give the answers he needed. Or, at least, he was unlikely to make the situation worse.

Leo nodded, happiness in his face. "Yeah, Donnie. Are you ok? Just… just rest, if you feel you need to."

"Donatello is awake?"

Another voice. With shunt of his shoulders, pushing his chin upwards, Donnie could migrate his field of vision enough to make out his father stood in the doorway to the dojo. The name came much easier this time, as there were so many to choose from. Splinter. Sensei. Father. Dad.

"Hai, Sensei!" Leo's quick answer was no surprise.

Splinter moved closer. "How is he feeling?"

The question continued to go unanswered, as Leonardo and Michelangelo both obediently moved aside for Splinter to crouch down and appraise his middle son. Donatello's gaze warily followed the hand that approached his face and touched to his forehead.

"His eyes are focused!" he heard Leo whisper excitedly to Mikey.

Clearly satisfied, Splinter sat back with a smile. "Yes. And your colour is better today, Donatello. I believe you are on the road to recovery, my son."

"R-rec'vry fr'm… Fr'm wh-wh-what, Sensei?" Donnie asked, finding his vexation hard to convey with the faltering words. "L-last th-thin' I r-re… r'mb'r is… Is a wareh'us."

"You got hit in the head," Mikey stated helpfully.

Yes, thank you Mikey, Donatello thought bitterly. He had gathered that much already, but saying so was too much effort.

"We were on a mission…" Leo began, finally providing the overdue explanation.

Eager to regain his lost memories, Donatello listened as Leonardo methodically described what had occurred. Michelangelo chipped in as well, giving a dramatised version of events that seemed less credible than the facts delivered by the measured brother.

It was an odd tale to listen to. Both tellers spoke ardently of Donnie's bravery when diving selflessly in to save their brother. Once their description concluded, the injured turtle was disappointed to realise he had no more recollection than before of the events that had supposedly occurred. It left the title of hero feeling undeserved, as if it belonged to someone else.

But at least he now knew what had happened. Ignoring a question directed towards him, Donnie dedicated what resources he could muster to contemplation. A traumatic brain injury. That was basically what it all boiled down to. A ton of gantry, deflected partially by his shell, had split his head open.

With effort, Donatello waded through the mess in his mind as he tried to find anything he could dredge from his memories about such injuries. He'd read about them, he recalled studying them at length. But he needed the information, not just the feel of the water stained textbook in his hands!

His brain felt woolly. Dredging anything from his thoughts was akin to walking through molasses. Donnie was so used to his quick mind providing swift answers that to suddenly have gone from turbo to crawl filled him with dismay.

Finally, he arrived at some information. Intracranial injury, major cause disability or death. Well, that was a start. Since he evidently wasn't dead, nor was he completely fine, it seemed likely that some degree of disability was a given.

He wasn't dead.

Dead.

He'd merrily skipped over the word, but it refused to be played down. He could be dead. Being at the receiving end of trauma like that? He was lucky not to be. If anything had been ever so slightly different; the angle of the gantry, the emergency aid his brothers had given, his care back at the lair… Right now, he'd be nothing more than a corpse.

An involuntary shudder of dread set pain tingling all over his body.

A second or two later, Donatello realised that the conversation amongst his family that had been continuing without him had abruptly stopped. Looking up into the faces above, he realised that his two brothers were now staring at him as if he were an unexploded bomb. Even Master Splinter had a wary edge.

In confusion, Donnie stared back. What were they waiting for? All he'd done was shiver. How did that…

Seizures. He'd been having seizures. It felt like a door had opened to another room of upended data. A further cascade of disarray, of facts and processing power that were destroyed beyond repair. Fits would explain why he ached, and why his tongue hurt. It probably explained the bruises as well.

"D… Donnie?"

Michelangelo's voice was quivering, despite the effort he made to deliver the name in a manner of both question and comfort. Unable to leave his little brother in such unhappy suspense, despite his own growing despondency, Donatello strove to answer.

"'m… 'm fine, Mikey. 's not… Not a… a…"

His thoughts screamed the word but his mouth just couldn't form it, no matter how many increasingly frustrating attempts he made. Why couldn't he spit the word out? Ultimately it seemed not to be a problematic omission, as the three spectators were reassured enough to relax once more.

Three? No…

It took a few seconds to locate with accuracy what he'd seen, but fortunately the figure wasn't moving particularly fast. Lowering folded arms to brace against the wall with one hand, his final sibling turned to limp slowly out of the dojo, from where he'd been silently spectating at the far side of the room.

The name came quicker this time. Raphael, his fiery brother. Strong. Passionate. Stupid. A hair trigger temper, combined with bull-headed determination. Deeply protective over the family, Raph had selflessly saved his brothers from harm on many occasions.

But not this time. This time, Donnie had done the saving. In doing so he'd been hurt. Seriously hurt. Now he had a path to recovery that was likely to be long and arduous, with an end that he may not recognise.

He'd broken himself, Donatello thought unhappily. He'd been in his prime, blessed with a healthy body and a gifted mind. But it was gone. It was all gone. His thoughts were laboured, his body was weak. Oh, he may recover, in part. But he would never be as perfect as he had once been. He was damaged.

In the twisted tangle of thoughts, one crept traitorously above the others. How could he have remorse about his injuries, without also having regret for saving Raphael?


	14. Chapter 13: Eggshells

**Chapter 13: Eggshells**

Michelangelo added the finishing touches to his culinary creation with a flourish. This, without a doubt, was one of his finest dishes yet. He'd really thought hard about it, making sure that the variation on the usual theme was applied in such a way that it would be instantly recognisable, with ingredients that blended together in delicious perfection.

The taste was guaranteed. After all, he'd consumed the first lot all by himself and his entire collection of taste buds couldn't possibly be wrong. He hadn't quite meant to test so many, but they were just so good that before he realised it, they were all gone! So, then his task had been to replicate the success, which he had achieved admirably.

With a satisfied belch, Mikey slid the second batch onto a plate. Scooping it up, he grabbed the accompanying carton of orange juice before trotting happily into the living area to proudly present his invention.

"Here you go! I brought you-"

Michelangelo cut off, a pout creeping onto his face. On the cushions, Raphael lowered the magazine onto his elevated leg and twisted to look at him.

For several days now, Raph had been confined to resting. His walk through the sewers with an open cut had, predictably, earned him an infection within the wound. The reward? Several toe-curling baths of salt water, then the injury was belatedly stitched closed.

Mikey suspected that Leo hadn't been trying to be particularly gentle, and he knew that his eldest brother was no-where near as practiced as Donnie or Sensei at sewing cuts. But Raph had endured it with the expected stoicism, then conceded to being benched with unexpected placidity.

Walking over to stand before his other brother, who was dozing against the cushions, Michelangelo balanced precariously on one foot in order to gently nudge Donatello with Stubby toe.

"That's gross, Mikey," came the unwanted observation from the peanut gallery. "When did you last wash your feet?"

Mikey loaded his voice with righteous outrage. "Dude! Don't use that word!"

The incredulous look Raphael shot him, before shaking his head and going back to reading, was not the comically incensed response that Michelangelo had been angling for. Maybe his brother was mellowing with age. Or maybe his fever had returned, the turtle thought with a wary glance.

But Raph wasn't his concern, Donnie was. His poor brother had… Well, not quite mentioned being hungry, but not argued the point when food had been suggested. So, being the dutiful sibling that he was, Mikey had immediately taken himself off to the kitchen to prepare a feast of fast breaking.

For Donatello to nod off again before he could present it was rude, but he'd forgive that. After all, his scrawny brother was still recovering and rest would help. Almost as much as a succession of good meals.

Over the past weeks, it had become increasingly apparent that any overexertion led to Donnie suffering a seizure. As such, Leo had insisted that they handle their injured brother with kid-gloves and not permit him to push himself. Even without that command, Mikey would have done everything he could to save his beloved brother from any further harm and aid his recovery.

Fleeting moments of benevolence aside, Raph generally had the compassion of an enraged hornet. Leo willingly did his part, but with so many other things nagging the leader's attention, Mikey had taken it upon himself to shoulder the mantle of chief nurse.

"C'mon, D," Mikey encouraged, along with another nudge from Stubby. "Grub time, bro!"

His brother's eyelids fluttered open. "Mnh?"

"Good morning to you too!" Michelangelo greeted buoyantly, before excitedly holding the plate right up to his brother's face. "Look what I made for you."

Donatello recoiled from the looming plate, before slowly gazing at it. "Whu-?"

"It's a pizzancake!" Mikey explained, pride shining with every word.

Raph suddenly reached over to grab the plate. "Give me that! What are you trying to feed him this time?"

Caught by surprise, Michelangelo found the dish unwillingly relinquished. Scowling, he sought to defend his creation. "It's a pizzancake, Raph. Give it back!"

"I heard you the first time." Raph's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's in it?"

"It's a pancake, topped with strawberry jelly and shredded cheese."

Raphael's top lip curled. "You can't feed that to Donnie! It's… It's weird! Jelly and _cheese?_ On a _pancake_? Why didn't you just make a pizza, idiot?"

Michelangelo folded his arms. "It's not weird, it's delicious, brah!"

Clearly unconvinced, Raph reached out to tear an experimental chunk off with his fingers. Stuffing it into his mouth, he chewed cautiously for several long moments. Then, reluctantly, he conceded, "Actually, it's not that bad…"

"I told you! Cheese and fruit are like… Onions and ice-cream!"

"And this is why we don't trust you."

Raph was about to tear himself another piece when Mikey snatched the plate away. "It's not for you! I made it for Donnie."

The named turtle was still sprawled upon the cushions, watching the exchange with a dazed expression. He recoiled again as the plate was shoved back in front of his face.

"Eat up!" Michelangelo encouraged.

Several long seconds passed before Donatello seemed to realise everyone was waiting for his response.

"I… Uh, g-gonna… Sit up, f'st," he slurred, raising a hand.

It wasn't clear whether he'd intended to move to a position to push himself up, or was trying to nudge the plate out of his face to give himself more room for the manoeuvre. However, the arm swung in an uncontrolled arc, ploughing into the rim of the dish.

Mikey watched in helpless dismay as the plate twisted in his fingers, before being overturned and plummeting towards the floor. His carefully crafted pizzancake landed partially on Stubby with a wet splat, followed a moment later by the tinkling noise of shattering crockery.

There was a moment of stunned silence, before Donatello's apology cut through it. "I-I... S-s'rry!"

Hoping over to wipe his foot on a nearby magazine, Michelangelo shook his head. "Hey, it's no problem, D! Lemme just…"

He looked up to see their eldest brother rushing towards them, evidently having been drawn by the noise and fearing the worst. "What's happening, is he-"

Raph clamoured stiffly to his feet. "Everything's _fine_ , Leo. A plate just got dropped, that's all."

Hopefully Raphael had finished with the magazine that had just been defaced with strawberry jelly, Michelangelo thought quietly to himself. Ignoring his two eldest brothers as they perfected their glares at one another, he headed over to Donatello.

Donnie was busy regarding his own arm in both sadness and betrayal, an expression that made Mikey's heart ache. Setting the juice carton aside, he reached out to clasp his brother's hand between his own and pull it protectively in to his chest.

"Hey, it was just an accident, brah. Don't worry about it! Let me help you sit up."

Liquid brown eyes turned towards him, so filled with misery that for a moment Michelangelo worried that he had made things worse. But, after a brief downward glance, Donatello looked up at him and swallowed slightly before giving a tiny nod.

Responding with an encouraging smile, Mikey dedicated one hand to holding guardedly on to the one he'd stolen, while the other slipped around his brother's shell to ease him to an upright position. As he did, he was dimly aware of Leo picking up the broken bits of plate around his feet and Raph settling back down.

"You want another pizzancake?" Michelangelo offered, before hesitating uncertainly. "Or… Something else?"

Donatello's mouth parted a couple of times before words finally emerged. "P-Pi…zza…an… Uh. That wou'd… wou'd… gr-great, Mikey."

Reluctantly releasing his brother's hand, Michelangelo offered a beaming smile before turning to follow Leonardo towards the kitchen. He trotted over to the fridge, while nearby the leader tipped the bits of broken crockery into the trash.

"So, what happened?"

Mikey hesitated a moment before answering. "It was just like Raph said," he replied, breezily. "A dropped plate."

Pulling the milk and eggs from the fridge, he turned to find Leonardo waiting for him. "You know that's not what I meant. Donnie knocked it, didn't he? He can't control his movements."

Michelangelo stared down at the ingredients. "It was an accident. I… He… The plate was too close."

"I know, Mikey. I know it was an accident," Leonardo replied gently. "I'm just trying to understand. The sooner we know Donnie's limits, the sooner we can learn to cope with them."

He was making it sound like Donatello wouldn't recover, Michelangelo realised in alarm. Setting his mouth in a determined line, he fixed his brother with a steely glare. "He's getting better! You'd be all wobbly too, if you'd been hit in the head like that."

Leo's quick nod of agreement surprised Mikey's stern expression away.

"You're right, I would," Leonardo agreed. "And I would get better, but… But maybe not all better."

He hesitated, shuffling one foot. "Mikey, serious injuries… They don't just go away."

Deep down Michelangelo knew what his brother was trying to say, what he was trying to tell him. But he didn't want to hear it! Donatello would be fine. He was getting better. Day by day, he was slowly improving. Before long, he'd be back tinkering in his lab and everything would be normal again. Mikey was sure of it!

Leo was searching his face, Mikey suddenly realised. Trying to gauge how much he was taking in, judging whether to keep talking.

He didn't want to hear anymore. Stepping past his brother, Michelangelo dropped the ingredients onto the counter. Grabbing the packet of flour, he tipped some into the bowl.

"He wants a pizzancake," Mikey abruptly explained. "But we're out of strawberry jelly, so I'm gonna have to use grape."

"It'll still taste good, but it'll be purple instead of red," he lamented.

Leonardo's vacillation was palpable, but after a few moments he reached a decision and walked over to stand by Michelangelo.

"I'll help," he offered, reaching to take an egg from the carton.

Donnie would get better, Mikey thought to himself. He watched Leo rap the egg firmly against the rim of the bowl, causing spidery cracks to spread across the shell.

Donnie would definitely get better.

On the second tap, the egg shell crumpled completely.


	15. Chapter 14: Push and shove

**Chapter 14: Push and shove**

Carefully stretching out his leg, Raph experimentally shifted his weight to burden it. It had taken longer to heal than he'd have preferred, over two weeks already. But he was satisfied to find that, aside from a lingering ache, there was no longer a prohibiting twang of pain.

Shifting the other way, he kicked lightly at the punching bag. This caused a slight jolt as the foot connected and set the bag swinging, but nothing he couldn't ignore. So he did it again, but harder.

"Raph."

The second blow smarted, but he quickly wiped the grimace from his face. Leonardo didn't need to know. Setting his foot back down, Raphael turned to coolly regard his approaching brother.

"Yeah?"

"There's a location worth checking out," the leader explained. "The trucks we bugged are going there regularly, but only after dark."

His brother was holding a map that Raph spared only a cursory glance. After all, his job wasn't to know the destination. His job was to deal with whatever they found there.

"I'm going to take Mikey and check it out."

Raph's expression darkened at the implication. "I'm coming too."

"No, I need you to stay and look after Donnie."

"He'll be fine for a few hours, Leo! Sensei's in his room, so he's not by himself."

Leonardo shook his head, his face serious. "No, Master Splinter's meditating. Donatello needs someone watching him, Raphael."

The use of their full names, combined with his 'leader voice', was an obvious attempt at sounding superior. Raph hated it when Leo did that.

"Besides…"

And there was the chink in that perfect armour. The hesitation of words unspoken, as Leo reconsidered what he'd been going to say. Undoubtedly it would have been something along the lines that it had been Raph's fault anyway, and he needed to take responsibility.

Bristling, Raphael's glower deepened. He knew it was his fault! Why did Leonardo have to rub it in at every opportunity? Did he think he wasn't aware?

"It's the other side of the city," Leo said, acting as if the pause had never happened. When Raph's only response was to glare, his brother blinked infuriatingly slowly before softly continuing, "I saw, Raph. Your leg is still hurting you."

"It's fine."

Leonardo shook his head again. "No. This is just a scouting mission, it only needs two of us. You stay here, with Donnie. If it does turn out to be one of Shredder's bases, Mikey and I will find out. Then we can go back together on another night and take it out."

With finality, the leader turned to where Michelangelo was already waiting by the turnstiles. The two of them headed out of the lair, with only a momentary glance back.

Raphael watched them go, his expression dark, before casting his eyes towards his other brother. Donatello was sat on the cushions with his back to him. Arguably he was watching as some random paint commercial played, but more accurately the television was on while the dulled turtle stared blankly at some indeterminable point beyond it.

With a sigh, Raph turned back towards the punching bag and prepared to kick out again. But before he could perform the movement, he paused at the memory of Casey's words. They still burned away in his mind, flaring regularly with growing accusation. _Stop moping and start helping!_

Turning his eyes back towards Donatello, Raphael stared at his brother's damaged shell and ugly scar in silent contemplation. Anger slowly trickled away as the void filled with guilt. A day hadn't yet passed without crippling regret pressing heavily upon him. He wanted to help his brother, so much that it ached worse than any injury he'd ever sustained.

Resting was all well and good, but there came a time when more was needed. When the injury needed to be worked, to regain the former strength. But more than that, it had to be stretched so that the limits could be tested and confidence regained.

He knew it, he knew it well. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd helped get a critically injured brother back on his feet. But he hadn't been pushing for what he knew needed to happen. He'd just been submissively following Leonardo's instructions to shelter Donatello.

Why? As much as he thought of hiding behind the excuse that Leo was the leader, deference had never stopped him from raising objections before. No, it was because he was frightened, Raph realised in dismay. He was afraid of making things worse.

Well, he wasn't going to let fear stop him from doing what was needed, Raphael abruptly decided. He was on his own now, Leonardo left him in charge of Donatello's care. Which meant, he could look after his brother in his own way.

These past few days, Donatello's physical recovery had reached a plateau while mentally he was getting worse instead of better. He was losing confidence in himself, giving everything up as lost and becoming barely a ghost of the turtle he'd once been.

Donnie hadn't set foot in his treasured laboratory, nor asked for anything contained within. He hardly looked at his beloved April when she came to visit. He scarcely even spoke to any of them, unless they pushed him to. He just sat there. Dejected. Defeated. Devastated. If nothing changed, they might lose him entirely.

There was no way that Raphael could just sit by and let their brother slip away from them. Not while there was still something he could do. He had to find that flicker of life within Donatello, nurture the flame and restore it to the inferno of intellectual passion and fanatical curiosity.

Raph strode across the room to loom over where his brother was sat, momentarily enjoying the rare advantage of height. Arms folded across his plastron, the stocky turtle appraised the other critically.

The slow, despondent look he got in return was so unlike Donatello that it served to further cement his resolve.

"You, me, dojo," Raph declared, keeping things nice and concise.

It got Don's attention, at least. Even if the response was the sluggish emergence of a quizzical look.

"You've been lazing on your butt for days. Time to get up and get moving," Raphael elaborated.

Donnie's expression deepened into outright perplexity. "R-Raph, I c'n barely w-walk."

"You managed to get from your room to here. And from here to the kitchen and back."

"Tha's n-not the s'me as… as… uh…" he hesitated, evidently hunting for a word that wasn't forthcoming.

Raph scoffed, "Have you tried it?"

The confused delay gave him enough time to grab his brother's hands and tug him to standing. A quick turn of the shoulders then a shove to the back of the shell, and he had Donnie reluctantly dragging his feet towards the other room.

Once there, Raphael pressed the familiar bo staff into Donatello's hands. He then turned away, deliberately not noticing as the pole dropped from Donnie's lax fingers and fell to the floor with a clatter.

By the time Raph turned back, he was pleased to discover that his brother had not only made the move to retrieve his fallen weapon, he was holding it defensively before himself. Perhaps it was just habit, but Raphael chose to see it as more.

"You ready?"

It was a rhetorical question, because no sooner had he spoken then Raph darted across the dojo and moved in for an attack.

The extended reach of Donnie's staff meant that he should have been blocking an enemy armed with a smaller weapon from getting inside of his defences. He must know that; he'd been trained to wield the bo ever since they were tiny. But he didn't move, he just stared vacuously at the incoming threat.

For a split-second Raphael considered pulling his punches against his hapless brother, but before he reached a decision he found himself within striking distance and decided impulsively just to go for it and see what happened.

Swinging a sai, he neatly entrapped the staff. Yanking it from Donatello's hands, Raphael sent the weapon clattering across the dojo. As his brother resignedly gazed after it, Raph didn't hesitate to sweep his legs out and send him to the floor.

There was a gut wrenching moment as he realised seconds too late that he'd just caused Donnie's head to bounce off the rug. It had at least been on the undamaged side and, to Raph's immense relief, didn't seem to trouble his brother. If anything, the fact that he'd just been upended seemed to tick him off.

Trying not to show the fear he'd felt, Raphael stood over Donatello with his arms folded. "You're not even trying," he goaded experimentally.

"I'm t-tir'd!"

"Push past that. Find your strength. Use it!"

He offered a hand up, which Donatello reluctantly accepted along with the return of his bo.

"I can't push past it. I'll ha-have 'nother seizure," Donnie petulantly protested.

Raphael steeled himself. "Then have one."

A couple of seconds ticked by, as his brother stared at him in shock.

"What?! B-but Leo—"

"Forget what Leo said. He has no idea. Stop letting it control you. Start controlling it!"

"You're the one who has n-no idea!" Donatello snapped, "You don't-don't know what I'm g-go… goin' through!"

Raphael didn't budge, it was all he could do to hide the glee that he was getting a reaction from his brother. A reaction he recognised, and one he intended to exploit to its fullest potential by pressing familiar buttons.

"What? Acting like big, stupid baby?"

"Well you… you, you… you'd know al'bout that," Donnie retorted heatedly, despite his words tripping over themselves. "Since you're the… the e-expert an' all."

Raph snorted. "At least I can defend myself."

He slipped into a taunting portrayal, raising his voice in pitch and tone. He even added in a mocking stutter. "Ohh… poor me. I can't move, I'm t-too tired, I'm gonna have a fit and k-keel over!"

After several moments of open mouthed surprise, rage seemed to spill over in Donatello. Switching to a one-handed grip on his left side, where he seemed to have greater co-ordination, he swung his bo-staff heavily. It was a clumsy blow that Raphael easily dodged.

However, planting one end of his weapon onto the ground, Donnie immediately used it as a pivot to swing his body round. He used momentum rather than prowess as he kicked out with a foot.

Not anticipating the second attempt, Raph didn't move quickly enough. He felt the blow connect with his thigh. It wasn't a strong hit, but it sent a shocking jolt of pain down the limb. He stumbled back in surprise, before righting himself with an exultant grin.

The unexpected smile seemed to pop Donnie's anger like a bubble. He stared back, bewildered.

"Good shot," Raphael conceded, as he rubbed the fresh scar on his leg.

Comprehension dawned. "Oh. Uh… s-sorry, Raph."

Raphael shot his brother an incredulous look. "Why are you apologising?" He then gave a smirk, before adding an affectionate insult. "You're such a dork."

"Hey!" Despite his protest, a small smile crept onto Donatello's face.

Raph stood back, arms folded, basking in the joy of seeing his brother finally show an indication of happiness. "Guess you weren't so tired after all, huh?" he teased.

The smile disappeared, replaced with a playful scowl. "I am tired!"

"Good. Get ready!"

This time, Raphael pulled his punches. He didn't want to risk bashing Donatello round more than was necessary. He was simply pleased to see his brother now putting an effort in, to raise his staff and sluggishly deflect the obvious blows.

But, he didn't let his brother land another hit. Even on full form, Donatello struggled to defeat the more martially inclined Raphael. To allow him to now, weak and without the element of surprise, would be an insult to them both.

However, even keeping the training gentle, it wasn't more than a few rounds until the inevitable happened. Staggering to a halt after a clumsy sidestep to avoid an attack, the bo staff suddenly dropped from Donnie's hands and onto the rugs with a soft thud.

"R-Raph… Raph! I'm… it's…" Donatello's expression, briefly alarmed, seemed to fall away into nothingness.

The tremors started and moments later his brother crumpled to the floor in a quaking heap. Chucking his sais heedlessly away, Raphael bounded forward to kick the bo staff into the corner of the room before skidding round to crouch near his brother's shoulders. Dodging the flailing arms, Raph ripped off his own elbow pads and used them as improvised cushions to protect his brother's thrashing head.

Raphael took a slow breath. He'd seen enough of the seizures now to not suffer the blind panic anymore, but it still made his heart pound with fear. Pushing past his own anxiety, he kept his voice admirably calm as he spoke to reassure his brother.

"It's all right, Don, just let it happen. It'll be over soon. I'm here, buddy."

"Hey, you knew it was coming this time," he continued in sudden realisation, while keeping his voice soothing. "That's something, huh? If we work on that, maybe we can find a way to stop them from happening. Or at least get a bit more warning."

Minutes later, as the spasmodic movements eventually stilled, Raph reached forward to gently lift his brother to rest against him. "You okay?"

"I've… b-been better," Donatello groaned, lolling his head against Raphael's shoulder. Yet the weak smile he offered, combined with the sarcastic edge to his words, was reassuring.

Raph patted Donnie's arm comfortingly, before suddenly glancing up as he realised they were not alone in the dojo. Splinter was silently watching from the doorway, his expression solemn and his long fingers entwined together.

"He… he's all right, Sensei," Raph quickly explained, protectively tightening his hold on his exhausted brother.

He was surprised to see his father's face crinkle into a tender smile.

"I know, Raphael. He is in good hands."


	16. Chapter 15: Overlook

**Chapter 15: Overlook**

Hidden amongst the shadows on the rooftop opposite, Leonardo crouched down to examine the building before them. His eyes narrowed slightly as he methodically took in everything. The old brickwork was stained with decades of pollution, while a trail of algae showed that the split in the guttering had remained unfixed for many years.

The entryway was dark, as would be expected at this time. It led into an understated atrium. There was a simple receptionist desk, then beyond that a barrier giving restricted access to the rest of the building. Several sad looking pot plants were wilting in the gloom, while the occasional bubble rippled up from the dripping water cooler.

Widening his view, Leo cast his vision over the broader premises. Beyond the office-like entrance, the building opened into a larger area that he guessed to be either a warehouse or a factory. It had no windows, but skylights were dotted along the peeling corrugated roof.

In contrast to the neglect of the rest of the building, the sign that hung over the front doorway seemed freshly painted. With illumination focused directly to emphasise it, the colours shone out brightly into the night. 'Chromahome', it read.

Where had he heard that name before? Leonardo furrowed his brow, trying to think. A task made no easier by Michelangelo humming a tune next to his ear.

"Mikey!" Leo whispered, "Shh!"

"Brah, it's the commercial!"

When Leonardo simply blinked in response, his little brother cheerfully launched into a full rendition.

"Chromahome, chromahome!" Mikey sang, almost in tune. "We'll do it together, us and you! Grab your brush, and a roller or two! Come on now, let the colour shine through! Chrooomaaa-hooooome!"

"The paint company?" Leonardo stated, flatly, before emitting a sigh. "Ugh. What would Shredder want with some paint?"

"Maybe he's redecorating?"

"I doubt that."

Looked like this was another dead end, Leo thought glumly, as he gazed out over the innocuous manufacturer. But his assessment proved premature, as moments later a figure stepped out from the shadowed alley that led around the back of the building.

At first glance, Leonardo would have just disregarded the man as the night security. But something about the way he moved set off warning bells. The shuriken he apprehensively drew moments later confirmed it. Foot soldier.

He must have heard Mikey singing, Leo thought in alarm. Motioning his brother to silence, the two turtles ducked down behind the roof edge barrier waited in trepidation. Fortunately, the man seemed to decide he must have imagined the noise and, after a few more moments, turned to head back down the alleyway.

"All right," Leonardo said, straightening. "Let's get closer and see what they're doing."

Mikey grinned as he eagerly jumped up, ready to go.

Moving silently through the night, the two teenagers made their way onto the building. Up close the roof looked even more derelict, with patches where rain would clearly leak though. With a quick gesture, Leo motioned caution to his brother as they avoided the areas that looked unlikely to bear their weight.

It wasn't difficult to find a skylight with a broken catch, which was easily prised open to allow the two access into the warehouse below. Most of the expanse was filled with industrial shelving stacked high with either cans of paint, or large barcoded containers.

An area nearer the main building comprised of several large mixing vats. Above them, at the end of the raised gantries that crisscrossed between the vessels, sat a computer terminal that looked woefully out of place in this millennium. Words were flickering lazily on the screen, as robotic arms moved to fetch the barcoded containers and empty the contents into the vats.

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. Tiger Claw was stood supervising a small group of Foot soldiers who wore masks covering their noses and mouths. As the colourless but sweet smelling liquid was poured into the vessels, they used the spigot to empty it into smaller containers. These were then being carried out to where, presumably, the truck was waiting outside.

They were stealing the chemicals! But for what purpose? Leo had a rudimentary grasp of chemistry, but the constituent components of paint and what they might be used for was way beyond anything he'd ever required knowledge of.

He recalled that Shredder had tried to steal chemicals before, of a variety that reacted explosively with water. But that didn't seem to be the case this time around, as surely they wouldn't put something so volatile into paint.

Donatello would have known, probably just from the smell of the chemical, Leonardo thought regretfully. Once, he would have bet all his chores for a month on his genius brother knowing exactly what was being stolen, and why. But now?

Pushing that thought away, Leo forced himself to focus on the scene. He shouldn't squander the opportunity to spy on their enemies. He needed to use it to figure it out for himself what they were doing, and why.

Absentmindedly, he raised a hand to touch the hilt of one sword. He had been intending for this to be a scouting mission, but there weren't many enemies here. Would it be easier just to defeat them, and make them talk?

The Foot soldiers were unlikely to pose much of a threat, but Tiger Claw was another matter. With all his brothers by his side, Leonardo wouldn't have hesitated to strike. But tonight, he only had Michelangelo.

Stealing a glance at his brother, Leo found Mikey staring back at him. His eyes, blue as a summer sky, were nervously wide. He must be uncertain of their chances against Tiger Claw as well, the leader realised. The realisation was confirmed moments later, as his little brother gave a wobbly shake of his head.

The mutant tiger was a formidable foe, one not to be underestimated. Slowly, Leonardo withdrew his hand from his blade. Then, with a gesture towards his eyes before pointing at the Foot soldiers, he gave the silent command to watch.

Relief washed over Michelangelo's freckled features and he nodded obediently.

Below, the Foot seemed to be winding up their operation for the evening. Snatches of conversation, floated up to where the two turtles watched silently.

Tiger Claw's low voice echoed throughout the warehouse. "That is enough for tonight."

"They're bound to notice," chuckled the security guard, as he sauntered over from the doorway. "You're gonna get me fired."

This seemed to entertain the Foot soldiers, and one of the women pulled down the air filtering mask that bad been covering her face. She jerked her thumb towards one of the men. "It's Dave's turn to be sent by the agency next."

"Why don't we just take all of it?" a sullen man complained. "Instead of coming back night after night?"

"Because inhaling too much can be dangerous. Also, it is a steady supply that is needed," Tiger Claw rumbled, with the frustrated patience of someone trying hard to work alongside idiots. "If we take it all, the company will fail and we will no longer have a ready source."

"This is the last one," the youth manning the spigot said as he straightened, his voice muffled behind the mask.

"Get the rest loaded," the mutant overseer ordered. "Shut down the computer."

The woman nodded and headed over to climb the ladder to reach the top of the gantry, so she could reach the console. Though he strained to see what she was doing, her body blocked Leonardo from viewing anything other than the fact that she was tapping away at the keyboard.

By the time she was finished, only Tiger Claw remained inside the building. He shepherded the woman out of the exit, then used the controls to set the shutter lowering before he ducked out beneath it. Everything fell still and silent, but it was another minute or so before Leo allowed himself to move.

He turned to confer with Mikey, only to find there was no-one there. Instead, he heard his brother's voice coming from somewhere further down the walkway.

"Found it!"

Had he discovered a clue? Quickly hopping down, Leo reached his brother in a few easy strides. "What have you found, Mikey?"

His brother beamed happily, holding out one of the paint tubs. "Partytime Orange! It's totally my colour, brah!"

Leonardo narrowed his eyes, prompting Michelangelo to grin playfully.

"Want me to find your colour?" he offered, turning to wander down the aisle. "I reckon it'll be Serious Blue…"

"Put the paint back!" Leo ordered impatiently. "We need to find out what chemical they were stealing."

He wondered whether they could they get a sample. The vats had been emptied, but the unemptied containers were still there. However, they were designed to be moved by robotic arms, so were much too large for the turtles to shift. There was no easy way to decant some of their content into a smaller vessel, and Leo wasn't about to risk spilling an unknown chemical.

Slipping between the rows of shelving, Leonardo headed instead towards the gantry. A quick climb brought him to the console, equipped with a keyboard and adorned with an additional collection of buttons and knobs that were labelled with incomprehensible acronyms.

The power button seemed obvious enough, but that simply brought up an invitation to enter the access code. Leo stared at the screen uncertainly, before tapping what he hoped was an escape key. The screen blinked, then went straight back to asking for the code.

Hitting buttons randomly created some asterisks on the screen, before flashing up with ERROR and returning to invitingly requiring the code to continue. In frustration, Leonardo bashed his hands down onto the keyboard, which had the result of simply turning the system off.

"I bet Donnie could access it," Mikey said, from behind Leo's shoulder.

Leonardo's fists clenched tighter. Yes, Donatello would have been able to. But now, brain damaged by the accident, that was no longer guaranteed.

"Want me to call him?" offered Mikey, blithely confident in their intellectual brother. Whipping out his t-phone, he tapped to awaken the device and scrolled to find Donnie's picture.

"No!" Leo quickly replied. He wasn't certain that Don was carrying his phone. Even if he was, and could manage the co-ordination to answer it, the chance of him being able to remotely guide them through accessing the console was tiny. However it might well cause their brother to suffer another seizure, while they were too far away to help.

Patience, he reminded himself. He had to be patient. To give his brother the time to recover and the rest of the family the chance to adjust.

"Take some pictures," Leonardo ordered, straightening. "Of the console, of the containers. Of anything that looks like it could be relevant."

"Aye aye!" Michelangelo answered, offering a cheeky salute. Turning, he raised his t-phone and started snapping eagerly away.

Sensei might know something, Leonardo hoped. Their father was a veritable fount of knowledge, occasionally in unexpected areas. There was even a chance that April may have covered some of it in chemistry classes. He'd try both, before troubling Donatello.

Mikey's voice floated over from nearby. "Awesome! Attitude Red. That is so Raph's colour! I'm gonna get a selfie…"

Despite himself, Leo had to smile. Shaking his head in defeat to Mikey's incessant cheerfulness, he stepped back to start taking some pictures of his own.


	17. Chapter 16: A solution

**Chapter 16: A solution**

"Hey guys!" April called, sliding through the turnstiles and into the lair. Held above her head as she passed through the barrier was the usual stack of takeaway boxes.

Reaching the uninhabited living area of the lair, she glanced around for any indication of where her four friends would be located. Her first glance towards the dojo showed no shadow of movement, but by the time she turned towards the kitchen Michelangelo was already bounding eagerly towards her.

"I smell pizza!" he cried excitedly.

"Hi to you too, Mikey," April replied with a laugh, before wrinkling her nose. "I'm amazed you can smell it; there's a weird stink round here."

The turtle grinned. "Eau de sewer. You get used to it."

She shook her head, dodging nimbly aside as he tried to grab one of the pizza boxes from her. "No, different to that. It smells almost…sweet. But not in a nice way. It's not as bad in the lair, at least. But some of the tunnels? Ick."

"Aw, April!" Mikey protested as she avoided him, before trying a different tact. Fluttering his eyes at her, he clasped his hands beneath his chin. "Did I ever tell you that you're one of my top ten favourite humans?"

April grinned. "I'll bet you'd say anything to get your hands on one of these."

"Sure would!" he agreed playfully. "So, what do you wanna hear? How smart you are? How beautiful? How brave?"

"A 'please' will do fine," she replied, with a wink.

Her turtle friend grinned before launching straight into, "Please, pretty please, with sugar on top and sprinkles and ice cream and jelly can I have a pizza? Most smart, beautiful and brave April?" Mikey concluded with another flutter of his eyes.

Laughing, April passed one over. "Fine, fine, here you go!"

"You realise he ain't gonna share that, right?" Raph commented, materialising in the doorway and watching as his brother bounded past with his prize.

"No problem, I brought plenty. Heads-up, Raph!"

April was always impressed at how quickly her mutant friends could react. When she suddenly frisbeed one of the pizza boxes towards Raphael, he didn't disappoint. With impressive nimbleness, his arms unfolded in the blink of an eye and he snatched the box out of the air without spilling a slice.

His success prompted a smug smirk to flicker across his face, before he beckoned for her to follow him back into the kitchen. Barely any limp remained on his injured leg, April was pleased to see. Evidently it had healed just fine.

Within the eating area, April was greeted by the sight of Michelangelo, predictably, stuffing his face. Leonardo was stood by the sink, his tension betrayed by his posture. Meanwhile, Donatello sat at the end of their contrived table and stared absently across the room.

"Hey!" April greeted warmly.

Raph moved past her to take a seat on the far side of Donnie, while Leo took a slow breath before straightening with a smile.

"Thanks for coming down, April," he said, courteously.

"No problem," she smiled. "So, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

The leader stepped towards her, reaching to take her arm. "I'll show you…" he started.

"Bring it in here," Raph quickly suggested, before pointedly adding, "then we can _all_ help."

"Are you gonna show her the photos?" Mikey chipped in, excitedly.

Leonardo gritted his teeth, but after a few edgy seconds he acquiesced to his brothers. "Yes, but I… ngh. Fine. Let me just get Donnie's laptop."

As he headed out, April blinked in confusion a couple of times before turning her attention towards her recovering friend. "How are you doing, Donnie?" she asked.

Donnie had been staring distractedly at the slice of pizza that Raph pushed into his hands, but at the question he slowly raised his head. April waited patiently, but after a handful of seconds there was still no answer.

"Hey." Raphael elbowed his brother in the arm. "She asked you how you are, Don."

Donatello blinked in surprise. "I… I s-said I was fine." He frowned uncertainly. "Didn't I?"

"No. Tell her again."

"I'm fine, April," Donnie said, this time offering his familiar gap-toothed smile.

Fine might be a stretch, April reflected, but each time she saw him showed steady improvement. As she returned the smile, she also reached out to fondly pat his forearm. "I'm glad."

Tossing an emptied pizza box into the growing stack in the corner, Mikey grabbed the next. "These are sooo good," he sighed.

Leo returned a moment later, carrying Donnie's laptop with him. With a surreptitious glance across the table, he carefully set the scuffed machine down and angled the screen for April to see. Then, raising a hand, he pointed towards a collection of digital photographs.

"We found one of the places that Shredder has been stealing from," he explained, keeping his voice low as if to avoid attracting attention. "It's a paint factory, and they've been syphoning off a chemical."

"Mikey and I took some pictures. I was hoping…" Leo continued softly, only to be interrupted as the youngest turtle leaned forward to point at himself on the screen.

"That's me!" Mikey explained, superfluously. "Lookie, April – I found Attitude Red paint! It's perfect for—"

Raphael reached over and cuffed Michelangelo across the back of the head. "Enough with the paint, already!"

"You want me to see if I can help you figure out what's going on?" April guessed.

From what she'd seen so far, April wasn't at all convinced she'd be of assistance. But, as she gazed into Leo's hopeful face, she found herself answering with, "Well, I'll give it a try."

Leaning forward, she started to examine the pictures more closely. It was easy to tell which turtle had taken which photographs, April realised in amusement. Leonardo's were boringly practical, while Michelangelo had opted for taking selfies of himself with everything. Hugging a fire extinguisher, balancing a paint pot on his head, swinging upside down from a ladder.

There was even one of him holding a bucket and using perspectives to make it look like he was about to use it to scoop up a tiny Leo stood some distance away, with his shell to the camera. April couldn't help but giggle.

"P-paint?" Donatello suddenly said.

April noted the hesitation before Leonardo reluctantly answered. He was trying not to get Donatello involved, she realised in surprise.

"Yeah, we checked it out earlier in the week. Tiger Claw was there with a load of Foot Soldiers. They were stealing some kind of chemical. But we've got it covered, Donnie. Don't worry about it."

Donnie's brow furrowed slightly. "C…che… Chemical. Which one?"

Leo paused, before shaking his head. "I don't know."

When Donatello gave no response other than to stare blankly at a mark on the table, April found Leonardo gazing back towards her expectantly. Quickly, she turned to the pictures and racked her brains to for something to contribute.

"Um, well… What are these barcodes?" she asked, tapping the picture showing the numbered lines on one of the large containers. "Have you searched the internet for them?"

"Yeah. It didn't come up with anything," Leonardo replied.

"'snot a UPC," Donnie chipped in, his voice distant. "It'll be… They'll h-have… ICS."

April gave Leo an uncertain glance before asking. "ICS?"

Donatello stared at her for a few seconds. "Huh?"

"ICS, Donnie!" Raph interjected, elbowing his brother's arm again. "You just said it."

April saw Leonardo glower at Raphael. Meanwhile, slowly, Donatello turned to gaze at his abrasive brother.

"ICS." Donnie frowned slightly. "In…in-inventory C-control Sys…system?"

"Like, an internal system for keeping track of stock?" April asked, curiously.

Michelangelo paused from eating long enough to beam. "I told you we should have asked Donnie! He knows everything."

"Guys, don't strain him!" Leo warned, mixed emotions crossing his face as he seemed to swing between wanting answers and not overtaxing his brother. After a few seconds, he appeared to opt for the latter by adding, "Let's just discuss this later."

"Solvent."

Around the table, everyone turned to Donatello before glancing back towards Leonardo. The leader had his teeth clamped together, clearly aching to ask but trying to restrain himself. Concern born of brotherly love shone in his eyes, as he watched his injured brother.

With indecision lingering too long, Raphael broke the silence. "What about solvent, Donnie?"

Donatello glanced at his brother for a few seconds. "In… In paint. P-pigment, solvent and… and…"

"Stuff to… to… Hold t-together, it… With the… The other stuff," he continued, waving his arm as he tried to describe. "Ngh, it's n-not important. A solvent! Wh-what Shredder stole. Solvent."

Slowly, clearly still worried about letting his curiosity overpower his concern, Leonardo reluctantly asked, "What's so special about solvent?"

Finally, there was something April could answer! She'd been revising Chemistry just the other night. "It's a substance that can dissolve a solid, liquid or gas." she quickly explained. "They combine to create a solution."

"Dissolve?" Mikey asked, fearfully. "What would Shredhead want to dissolve?"

"Everything," Raph proposed. "How about a solution of Mikey soup?"

As Michelangelo pouted across the table at Raphael and reached for another slice of pizza, April shook her head. "They're not all bad," she pointed out. "Water is a solvent, after all."

Standing, April looked around. Heading over to the sink, she filled a jug with water before grabbing a glass and some powdered drink mix.

"Ok, so here's your solid," she explained, tipping a little of the concentrate into the glass. Picking up the jug of water, she poured some in. "We add the solvent and…"

"Voila," she concluded, pushing the drink forward. "A solution."

She glanced around the brothers to see Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo were watching her scientific display in interest. Meanwhile, Donatello was staring at her with a familiar puppy eyed expression. April wasn't quite sure whether to be happy at this latest element of recovery, or find it as discomfiting as usual.

Awkwardly averting her gaze, in the corner of her vision April saw Raph note the exchange with a smirk.

"Shredder's stealing water?" Michelangelo asked, in confusion. "Dude, who'd need to steal water?"

"No," started April, "that's not what I—"

"We do," Donatello belatedly answered, overlapping April's words as he got his own to vocalise. "I t-tapped us in. But… We d-don't… don't pay. So…"

"So, what _is_ Shredder stealing?" Leonardo cut in, trying to take control before the conversation could divert. "It sounds like solvents can be pretty diverse."

He glanced between April and Donatello, clearly unsure which one to ask and which one might be able to answer.

April shrugged helplessly.

"Diluent, ketones, esters, aliphatics, aromatics, alcohols…" Donatello suddenly reeled off with apparent ease.

How could he recall and recite all that but struggle with much simpler words, April wondered in both confusion and curiosity.

"Alcohol? Maybe he's planning a party," Mikey quipped.

Leonardo groaned. "We need to figure out which solvent. And what he's using it for!"

Donatello reached for the laptop screen. He'd clearly intended to point out a particular picture, but his right hand swayed unsteadily and he couldn't get his finger to stay in position. Gritting his teeth in vexation, he switched to use his other hand. This time, he clearly indicated the photograph Leonardo had taken of the control panel.

"The c-computer. C-con…connected with… with the… ICS," Donatello haltingly explained. "Connect in and… and find… It'll list… d-database of… b-b… b… ba…"

"Barcodes!" he eventually spat out, with enough force and venom to make the innocuous word sound rude.

April heard Michelangelo giggle, but the sound cut off with a glare from Leonardo.

"I tried that, Donnie. But the console was locked," Leo said, before turning to April. "April, do you think you could get into it?"

"Um, I… I'm not sure," she admitted.

"I can." Donatello sat up straighter. "I can!"

Raphael nodded encouragingly, but Leonardo immediately cut in with, "No."

"Donnie, you're still recovering," he continued, his voice filled with concern. "And what if you… If something happens?"

Donatello stared blankly for a few moments, before a scowl crept across his face. "S-something always happens! What d-di…di-difference would… would it make? I can't j-just… In the lair… Forever, Leo!"

"It could make a lot of difference, Donnie!" Leo replied, jumping to his feet and gripping the edge of the table. There was a clear edge of fear in his voice.

"Hey, hey!" Mikey quickly interjected. "Maybe he could talk April through it from here?"

Donnie shook his head. "Y-you've heard me try and e-explain. It's all… The words, they… In my head and… and it's… it's…"

"I can't!" he snapped. "I have to be there!"

Leonardo's knuckles whitened. April turned as she saw Raphael suddenly stand.

"I'll protect him," Raph said, his voice and eyes intense. "Leo, I won't leave his side. No matter what. Even if Shredder himself arrives and… and calls me a bulbous toad. I swear. I'll keep Donnie safe."

April overheard Mikey murmur to himself with a chuckle, but if Leonardo heard his youngest brother, he showed no reaction. He was too busy glancing between Donatello and Raphael, trying to make the difficult decision.

"All right," he finally agreed, with quiet misgiving. "But we'll go late. The Foot will have been and gone, so we won't be disturbed."

He shot a brief apologetic glance towards April. She nodded slightly in response. Leo knew that she wouldn't be able to attend a late mission. Unlike the turtles, she had a daytime schedule to stick to and school to attend.

"Good luck, guys," she said, encouragingly. "Let me know how it goes."

Leonardo nodded and sat down, a resigned expression clouding his face. April watched as he reached out to finally take his share of the pizza. But, flipping open the boxes, each one in turn was revealed to be empty.

Michelangelo shrugged. "Too slow, bro."


	18. Chapter 17: Pride before a-

**Chapter 17: Pride before a…**

It felt good to finally leave the lair. Donatello hadn't realised just how much he'd missed the cool night air and the gentle glow of the city cast in moonlight. Even the steady rainfall wasn't enough to dampen his spirit, as he relished more than ever before that he was able to be out on a mission with his brothers.

Although Mikey and Leo had done the journey on foot last time around, this time they took the party wagon to within a mile of their eventual destination. Then, rather than crossing the rooftops, an easier route had been chosen that led down alleyways and across silent side streets.

True to his word, Raph hadn't left Donnie's side. It was probably just as well. As humiliating as it was to be led, without his brother's strong hand holding firmly to his own as they moved between the buildings and navigated around each barrier that blocked their way, Donatello was not convinced he'd have been able to make it. He had to stop every block or two to rest, capturing his breath while his bungling muscles trembled traitorously.

But, he was here. He was out with the team, working alongside them to take down Shredder's evil empire. He was no longer sitting back at the lair, wondering in growing disconsolation what purpose life would now hold. He still had a part to play in the group. That was worth more than any aches or pains he might suffer tomorrow, as the payment for pushing himself today.

At the end of the next alleyway, Leonardo and Michelangelo had paused to wait for them to catch up.

"How are you doing, Donnie?" Leo whispered, his eyes filled with worry.

"I'm f-fine, Leo!" There was no way that he was going to risk saying anything else, as Leonardo had already mentioned several times that they could call the mission off and come back another day.

"How much further?" Raphael asked, saving Donatello from wondering whether it was safe to ask that question.

"Not far, dudes," Michelangelo chipped in. "Just the next street."

Raph surged forward, passing the other two and tugging Donnie along behind him. "Then let's do this already!"

"Raph!" Leo's protestation fell on deaf ears as the turtle in question continued onwards, dragging his charge swiftly across the deserted road and into the next alleyway.

Donatello stumbled along behind, clipping his toes on the curb as he didn't quite manage to lift his feet high enough at the speed required. At his slight hiss of pain, Raphael spared a quick glance back but didn't slow the movement.

Leo, still with the same look of misgiving that had been resting firmly upon his face all evening, pursued swiftly. Stepping in front before Raph could emerge from the next alleyway, he spoke firmly.

"Stay here. Mikey and I will check out that the coast is clear and find an easy way into the building."

Donnie looked to his hand-holding brother, who in turn had a quick glance at the branded building on the far side of the street. Grudgingly, he moved back against the wall with the implication of obeying the order.

Leonardo nodded briefly before moving away, while Michelangelo gave a more cheerful thumbs-up as he bounded after the eldest of the four. Donatello wasn't sure how long he spent staring absently at the empty space they vacated, but a sharp jab against his arm took his attention to Raphael.

"Well?"

Was that a question? A question about what? He must have missed something again, Donatello realised in dismay. Staring in confusion at his brother, with lips slightly parted, earned him the response of rolled eyes.

"C'mon!" Raph said, pulling out of the alley and across to the foot of the Chromahome building.

There must have been a signal, Donatello realised. Trusting his brother, he tagged along behind until he found himself pushed towards a downpipe that stretched to the roof.

"Can you climb?"

"Uh…"

That was a good question, Donnie realised. For a moment or two he stared at his hands, before frowning in concentration as he reached out to take hold of the rain slickened pipe. At least the untreated surface was rough enough to gain a grip, although it took a few attempts on his unstable side. The heady feeling of success buoyed his persistence.

Steeling himself, he moved upwards. Clinging like a monkey to the ironwork and using his left side to compensate for his right, Donatello slowly began to ascend. A smile crept across his face. He was climbing! He was climbing up the side of the building!

A week ago, he'd have bet his laptop on the fact that he'd never again be able to complete such manoeuvres. Sure, he wasn't as quick or graceful as before. But he was doing it! That was the main thing.

The initial burst of energy faded, but the turtle determinedly persevered. Gripping with his toes, sliding his hands upwards and then switching to gripping with his fingers so his feet could rise. It wasn't until he was around two thirds of the way towards the roof that he realised his strength was going to fail before he made it all the way.

"R-Raph…" Donnie said, nervously, with a glance down towards the ground.

His brother was right beneath him, Donatello realised in surprise. At his name, Raphael glanced upwards, then shimmied a little higher and altered his grip onto the pipework. Stretching up with one arm, he gripped the ridge at the base of Donnie's shell.

"Put a foot on my shoulder," he instructed. "Keep holding on. Let me know once you're ready to move."

Donatello swallowed nervously as he followed Raphael's instructions. What if he had a seizure? Would he fall? It was a long way down, and he didn't want to think about what would happen if he smashed his head on the concrete below. There'd probably be nothing left to save this time around.

"You're nearly there, Donnie." Raph's assurance seemed to hang beneath him like a safety net, as his brother's strong arm gave the support Donnie needed to recover. "It's not far to go."

With a slight nod, trying to emulate the confidence exuded from below, Donatello took a slow breath before moving his foot from Raphael's shoulder back onto the pipework. Pushing his reluctant muscles, he started again to climb.

Scrambling up over the lip of the roof was awkward, but a sudden shove from the base of his shell sent Donnie across the final obstacle and sprawling onto the wet, corrugated roof.

"I… I did it!" he gasped, coming up to hands and knees before sitting back on his heels.

Raphael scrambled up behind him, before standing up and stretching out the muscles in his arms. "Yep. Now c'mon – let's see if we can beat Leo!" he said eagerly. A moment later he belated added, "and Mikey."

His brother sported a familiar competitive grin, and for Donnie dawned the realisation that Raph hadn't seen a signal for them to proceed after all.

An uncertain frown flickered briefly across Donatello's face. Did that mean his brother was using him to try and prove a point? He hadn't needed to climb the pipe after all, if they'd just waited then Leonardo and Michelangelo would have returned and let them in an easier way.

But, he _had_ climbed the pipe, Donnie realised. He turned back to his hands. He didn't need a door opening for him to stroll onto the scene! He was still a ninja. His body might not be as strong or as dextrous as it had been, but he still knew what to do. With a bit of help, he was capable of doing it.

"Don?"

Raphael was helping this time. But maybe, in the future, he could find ways to help himself. His right side was weak and uncoordinated, but that could be aided with an exoskeleton, Donatello realised with growing excitement. If he could establish the some of the physiological triggers, he might even be able to find a way to predict, or even stabilise, the seizures.

"Donnie?"

Slowly, the turtle looked up. His brother was gazing down at him, expression sobered from before. He'd seen that face often enough to recognise the slight crease of worry around the eyes, even with them masked in red.

"I'm fine," Donatello responded firmly, before a smile spread across his face. "B-better than fine. Let's d-do this!"

Raph grinned back. "Then quit staring at your hands and get up off your butt!"

Donatello found himself being tugged across the rooftop. Raphael paused by every skylight, until he found one that could be opened. Doing so, he then turned and grabbed Donnie's hands.

"I'll lower you in," he instructed, planting his feet firmly on the edges of the frames.

Although Donnie was taller, he knew that for muscle mass he was easily outstripped by his elder brother. Especially given the weight he'd lost following the accident. Stretching out with his toes as he was lowered down, the lanky turtle just managed to brush the top of the shelving before he was dropped down onto it.

There was a shaky second or two as he quickly crouched to regain his wobbling balance. But, by the time Raphael jumped down, Donatello was secure in his position.

"Damn," Raph whispered, and with a nudge he pointed across the warehouse.

Following his gaze, Donnie saw that Leo and Mikey were standing next to one of the external doorways. Though he couldn't make out the words in their whispered conversation, it seemed obvious that the two were discussing how to get the door open.

"We can still surprise them," Raphael breathed. "C'mon."

Dropping silently down from their perch, the two used the shelving to dampen any noise of their approach until the last possible moment, when Donnie saw Raph take immense pleasure in popping out suddenly behind Leo.

"Looking for the doorbell, Fearless?" he taunted.

A credit to his training, Leonardo reacted instantly the moment Raphael betrayed his position. He spun round with blades drawn. "Raph?" the leader said in surprise, lowering his weapons. "But where's… Oh."

"Guess we don't need to get the door open for you guys after all, huh?" Michelangelo added as Donatello joined his brothers, offering a cheerful smile and hooking his thumbs into his belt.

"Let's just get this done and get out of here," Leonardo interjected pragmatically. "Mikey, you keep a watch for the security guard. Donnie, the console is this way."

Leonardo led Donatello over to the raised gantry, with Raphael trailing along behind them. The console was positioned above large paint mixing vats, with robotic arms waiting patiently on the track that ran across the ceiling.

"Do you want any help?" Leo asked, gesturing at the ladder.

Donnie glanced up it, then shook his head determinedly. "No, I'm g-good."

With a nod, his eldest brother stood back to give him space. The ladder was a lot easier than the pipe, and soon Donatello was steadfastly crossing the elevated space to reach the control panel.

With Raph and Leo crowded behind him, Donnie examined the setup. There was a standard ASCII keyboard, connected to an archaic cathode ray tube monitor. A bespoke board with several switches and buttons that seemed likely to offer manual control of the robotic arms, given the way the wires were connected to the interface above.

Reaching to press the power button to start the system up, Donnie stared at the message displayed on screen. A typical console font, displayed in green with a black background, asked for the access code and blinked in anticipation.

Given the age of the hardware, Donatello suspected that it was probably coded via a disk operating system of yesteryear, without the graphical user interface that was now commonplace. That would make overriding it easy enough… If he could remember the key combination to get to the settings. The information was there, he knew it was, but it slipped away every time he tried to grab it.

"Donnie?"

He'd almost had it! But the utterance of his name jerked it away. However, before he could turn to his brother, another name was called.

"Leo! We have company!" Mikey was rushing towards them. "A truck just pulled up outside."

"They should have been already!" Leo said, his dismay evident. "All right, let's get out of here. We'll come back tomorrow and-

"What?! No, we can take them," Raphael insisted. "I'm not running away with my tail between my legs!"

"Dude! You have a tail?" Michelangelo looked both surprised and impressed in equal measure, before suddenly frowning doubtfully. "Wait, are you sure it's not just—"

"Not now, Mikey!" Leonardo cut in. "Donnie's struggling. Let's just go back, then tomorrow—"

Donatello scowled. "No! I c-can do it! I just… It w-was… And you… T-time! I need time!"

"No problem," Raph declared, drawing his sais in anticipation.

There was an edge of uncertainty in Mikey's voice. "We're going to fight?"

The decision was ripped away, as the shutter at the far side of the warehouse clanked into motion and started to slide upwards with a mechanical whine. It revealed feet, mostly the dark tabi boots of the foot soldiers but also the heavy paws of Tiger Claw.

With an exasperated sigh, Leo nodded. "Fine, we fight! Donnie, just… just do what you can. Raph, _do not leave his side._ "

"Don't plan to."

Donatello nodded at the instructions, turning back towards the blinking pipe on the computer screen. He was distantly aware of Leonardo jumping down from the raised platform, and the roar of anger from Tiger Claw as he entered the warehouse to find them there.

Out of no-where, the command to bypass the login screen popped into Donnie's head as if it had never been missing. Not trusting the fingers of his right hand to hit the correct keys, it was slower but safer to get his left hand to do the work. Stretching both fingers apart, he was just about able to press the buttons in harmony for the escape command.

The code screen vanished, instead replaced with the administration panel. Donatello grinned. This was more like it! Now he just needed to reset the access and he'd be into the mainframe of the system, where he'd be able to view the log files and identify just what chemical it was that Shredder was so intent on stealing.

Feeling the bouncing movement of the gantry on which he was standing, Donnie glanced over his shoulder. Several Foot soldiers were hastily making their way across towards where Raph was stood waiting for them with his sais spinning in anticipation.

"All right, let's paint this town," Raphael goaded.

He easily deflected the first shuriken that came flying, but the second skipped just past him to embed itself solidly into the handrail beside Donnie with a shearing clang.

Staring in alarm at the sudden arrival of the throwing star, Donatello also noticed Raphael briefly turn to make sure his brother was fine. Once reassured that all was well, Raph span back to charge the offending Foot soldier and redouble his defensive efforts.

Donnie dragged his gaze back to the computer. He had to focus! He needed to do this. But trying to tune out the fight that was happening around him was almost impossible. Who just cried out in pain? He could hear Raph's roar of fury and the squeal of a soldier sent flying. The gantry bounced nauseatingly with every move.

The monitor, not designed for stability under such conditions, wobbled atop the pedestal on which it was perched. Reaching out to secure the screen, Donatello forced himself to take a slow breath as he stared at the display, reading down through the options.

There. User administration. That's what he needed.

Tabbing across, inwardly cursing every sluggish movement of his body, the turtle accessed the menu and chose the option for adding a new user. The picture was swimming before his eyes, and his head was pounding as he slowly keyed in the additional access code.

Now, permissions. He had to set the permissions. All around, the fight reached a crescendo of noise and motion. With a huge, echoing clatter, one of the racks of paint tipped its load across the floor of the warehouse. As Raphael leapt to deliver a flying kick to one of the attacking enemies, the gantry leapt drunkenly under Donatello's feet. An icy shot from Tiger Claw's weapon struck the handrail next to where he stood, instantly frosting it.

Concentrating on the screen was becoming increasingly difficult, and a slithering sensation of wrongness started to spread from Donnie's fingertips to the rest of his body. A chilling, tingling feeling was creeping over his skin, which he distractedly attributed to the frozen rail to his side.

Forcing himself to ignore the speckle of lights floating across his vision, Donatello blinked furiously as he valiantly tried to focus. His head felt like it was filled with jackhammers, and a feeling of dread was starting to rise from his stomach to his throat.

Then a memory surfaced, and panic abruptly exploded inside his mind as he jerked back in horror. He'd felt this before; it was the pre-ictal signs. Those few moments of warning that his body taunted him with, when there was nothing he could do to prevent what came next.

He was going to have a seizure! This was not good. He had to tell Raph, he-

Like the picture of the old CRT monitor, Donatello's awareness abruptly dimmed to a point before everything went black.


	19. Chapter 18: Fall

**Chapter 18: Fall**

The unfortunate foot soldier squealed in surprise as Raphael scooped him up and flung him down to the level below. The turtle had been hoping to see an awkward landing followed by the youth limping away to reconsider his involvement, but sadly training seemed to kick in and the boy managed a smooth break roll.

The enemy ninja scrambled back to his feet just in the nick of time to scamper out of the way, as one of the huge racks came tumbling towards him. All around, the warehouse exploded into technicolour as pots of paints burst, spreading their glutinous content far and wide.

Slapping another shurikan out of the air with his sai, Raph's attention moved to his next victim. The first punch he threw at his target was dodged, but the second hit home. The foot soldier doubled over with an unhappy wheeze, before a flying kick to the chest sent him stumbling backwards. He knocked into the woman who had been standing behind and they both fell down the ladder, landing on the concrete floor with a crunching thud.

Satisfied with that, and momentarily unengaged in battle, Raph straightened out of his battle stance. Not a single enemy had gotten past him to challenge Donnie and, after that first shurikan that had sliced into the hand rail, no more had been allowed to pass. Everything was completely under control, the turtle thought confidently.

"RAPH!" Leo's panicked tone demanded immediate attention, and Raph whipped his head towards his brother.

Leonardo had stepped back from his own fight and was gesturing frantically towards the console. Towards Donatello.

Sudden fear felt like a bag of rocks in his gut as Raphael spun around. He dropped his weapons and was moving even before he finished taking in the scene, as his younger brother fell into familiar spasms and pitched against the damaged handrail. The weakened metal shrieked as it sheared, parting the bar and offering no protection from the long drop into the vat below.

It was Raph's turn to scream, crying out his brother's name as he dove to grab him before he could plunge over the edge of the walkway. His hand initially clutched at air, as Donnie unwittingly jerked his leg out of the way. But, before his brother could plummet, Raphael snatched again at the limb. He was rewarded with the solid feel of flesh beneath his fingers.

In a vice-like hold, Raphael clamped his fingers shut around Donatello's ankle and quickly brought his other hand in for reinforcement as he bounced onto his plastron. He barely had a chance to brace for the arm-wrenching jerk that followed moments later. It threatened to drag him overboard, but with a mad scrabble he managed hook his feet around the metal railing on the opposite side of the narrow gantry, bringing the motion to an abrupt halt.

"I've got you!" Raphael cried, although keeping a hold of his brother as he convulsed was taking every ounce of strength in his arms.

"Hold on, Raph!" yelled Leo, abandoning his own fight as he sprinted towards them. "I'm coming!"

Tiger Claw's rumbling laugh from across the warehouse made the Raphael's blood boil, but he kept his focus firmly upon his brother. Right now, it was impossible to pull Donatello up. He had to hang on until his brother went still. Then, he might stand a chance to get him back onto the gantry and away to safety.

Tiger Claw raised the heat throwing ray gun and pointed it towards where Donnie was dangling helplessly at the end of Raph's arms. "This time, I will be sure to finish him off," the enemy taunted.

But his rapture was short lived, as a shurikan struck the weapon and sent it skittering from his paw. The mutant tiger growled furiously and turned on Michelangelo, who stood a short distance away with a scared but resolute look on his face.

Donatello's convulsions stilled and he finally went limp. Breathing a sigh of relief, Raphael renewed his hold then strained to drag his brother back onto the gantry. He'd just stretched out to take a hold of Donnie's belt, when a kick to the shoulder threatened to break his grip.

"Can't fight now, huh freak?" goaded the youth he'd sent flying earlier. His attire, once the colour of midnight, was now a mottled mess of slimy green and yellow paint.

"Just you wait…" Raph growled, tightening his fingers. "I'm gonna break your face."

The youth smirked. "Nice idea," he jeered, before kicking Raphael in the head.

Raph reeled as the blow rang across his skull and dark spots exploded in his vision. His body reflexively screamed to free his hands and defend as a second kick loomed, but he fought the impulse and clung determinedly to his brother.

Screwing his eyes closed, Raphael braced for the next hit. But it never came. Instead, there was a strangled scream and the rush of movement. The turtle's eyelids snapped open in time to see his elder brother ruthlessly kick the unconscious youth aside, before diving to add his strength for pulling Donatello back onto the platform.

Between them it was an easy job, and Leo worriedly patted Donnie's cheek as soon as he was stable against Raph. "Donnie? Don, can you hear me?"

"G-geddof," Donatello mumbled, batting sluggishly towards Leonardo's hand.

"He's ok," Raphael breathed.

From the look Leo gave him, it was clear the sentiment was not shared. But a cry of pain stole the leader's attention.

"Mikey!" Leonardo stated in alarm. His eyes widened in worry for a moment, before narrowing shrewdly. "Raph, get Donnie out of here. I'll get Mikey and be right behind you!"

His earlier argument against fleeing forgotten, Raphael had no intention of disagreeing with the leader this time. He barely had a chance to nod before Leonardo turned and raced away.

The departing view gave chance for Raph to see the vivid paint that stained all down his brother's shell and legs. In other circumstances, he'd have found it hilarious. But right now, it couldn't even raise a smile.

"All right, c'mon Donnie," Raph said, hauling his brother's limp form awkwardly up then across his shell and shoulders in a fireman's carry. "We're leaving."

Most of the Foot soldiers were either unconscious or in groaning piles on the floor, but Tiger Claw was still very much a threat. Raphael dodged wide of where Leonardo was harassing the mutant, as the leader provided Michelangelo with a chance to back away.

The predictable bang with a purple puff came a moment later, as Mikey flung a smoke bomb at Tiger Claw's feet and let the choking cloud distract the tiger for long enough to allow them all to sprint for the exit.

Escaping the building was a lot easier than it had been to enter, as they utilised the rolling door that the enemies had conveniently left open for them. Outside, the rain continued to fall. It had been a minor annoyance before, but now it was for their benefit as it rapidly washed away the faint outlines of paint that Leonardo was leaving every time his feet touched the ground.

Stealth was not abandoned, but was a lot less of a concern as the brothers dashed through the night to cross the streets and wind along the litter strewn alleyways, towards where the party wagon sat waiting for them. An unspoken conversation hung in the air between the two eldest, but it had to wait.

With Leonardo up front in the driver's seat, it fell to Raphael to see to his younger brothers in the back of the cramped vehicle. Where to direct his attention first was a tricky decision, but a choice had to be made. Leaving an uncharacteristically quiet Michelangelo clutching one arm across his plastron, he first directed his attention to where Donatello was slumped in the corner where he'd been dropped, with his chin on his chest and eyes closed.

Scooting closer, Raph reached out to shake his brother's shoulders as the party wagon rattled along the streets. "Donnie? Hey. Hey! Can you hear me?"

It seemed like an age before Donatello sluggishly opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly. "Wh… What?"

Raphael's sigh of relief was audible. "Are you ok, bro? D'you know where you are?"

Donatello gazed blankly for several moments, before slowly looking around. "P-party wagon," he eventually said, before frowning slightly. "Where is… Th-there was… C-computer?"

Before Raph had chance to answer, Donnie caught up with himself. "I… A seizure," he stated, before grimacing. "I-I set the code! I w-was in! But…"

Reaching out to pat his brother's arm, Raphael shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Don. Are you gonna be ok?"

Donatello's eyelids were sliding closed again as he nodded. "Yeah…" he mumbled. "Just… just so t-tired."

Leaving Donnie to doze, Raph turned around to give his attention to his littlest brother. He found Mikey gazed at him, those baby blue eyes filled with emotion and threatening at any moment to flood with tears.

"R-Raph…" The voice wobbled alarmingly, causing Raphael's concern to increase tenfold.

"Hey, you'll be fine," Raph replied, forcing more cheer into his words than he was feeling. He reached out for his brother's arm, to probe the injury.

It was cold, an unnatural frozen chill. The limb had evidently taken a hit from Tiger Claw's ice ray and been rendered numb. Well, that was easy enough to resolve; enveloping his brother's wrist in his hands, Raphael started to warm it.

Michelangelo's arm might sting a bit as it was revitalised, but surely it couldn't be hurting enough to cause the anguish that was written all over his little brother's face. There was more to it than that, Raphael was sure.

"Are you hurt somewhere else, Mikey?" he asked in concern, scanning for a more serious injury.

Mikey shook his head tearfully, prompting Raph to suspect a different reason.

"Hey, Donnie's gonna be fine," he consoled. "He didn't get hurt, he's just tired out."

"We just let Tiger Claw and the others off this once." Raphael added brazenly, "Next time, they ain't gonna be so lucky. We'll kick them into New Jersey!"

But to his surprise, the bravado caused a sob to burst out from Michelangelo. "I-I couldn't do it, Raph! Every time I tried, I… I saw them!"

Raphael hesitated, a frown of confusion creeping over his face. "Saw who?"

"Them!" Michelangelo insisted, tears spilling down his freckled cheeks. "I saw _them_!"

"You're not making any sense, Mikey!" Raph stated, caught between worry and frustration.

The conversation was lost in the darkness, as the vehicle plunged through the passageway into the tunnels that lead back to the lair. It rattled along the abandoned tracks, jolting the passengers and making any further discussion next to impossible.

Well this evening had bombed, Raph thought irritably. It had started promisingly, with Donnie achieving more than he'd dared to hope for. But now Don was all but unconscious again and Mikey's marbles were even further scattered than usual.

At least they were nearly back to the lair, where hopefully they'd be able to pick up the pieces and salvage something from the mission. Surely Donatello must have learned something before he fell.

It was only a short while until the party wagon pulled to a halt, then it took a few moments more before the sliding door opened and Leonardo leaned in. Raphael responded to the questioning look with a simple nod that explained everything necessary, prompting the leader to speak decisively.

"Let's get you to your room," Leo directed, reaching to gently tug one of Donnie's arms over his shoulder and manoeuvre their exhausted brother out of the vehicle.

Waiting for them, not too far away, stood Splinter. His ears were raised attentively and a look of concern settled upon his staid features as he assessed the situation. The composed stance shattered a moment later, as Mikey pulled away from Raph and leapt out of the vehicle, in favour of racing over to fling himself against his father.

"Senseeeiii!" he wailed, with enough distress to fray every nerve Raph had, in a mixture of both concern and vexation.

"Michelangelo?" came the concerned reply. "What happened?"

Not interested in overhearing an exaggerated play by play account of the evening, which would likely bear little resemblance to what truly happened, Raphael instead directed his efforts to assisting Leonardo by taking Donatello's other arm.

Getting Donnie stripped of his battle gear and settled in bed was completed in silence, as their brother was too tired to even open his eyes. Yet amid it all, the unspoken words still hung awkwardly between the two eldest brothers.

Raphael was waiting as Leonardo turned around, having quietly closed Donatello's door behind them. The statement that hung, unspoken, needed to be voiced. Those four simple words that he knew were first and foremost in the leader's mind: _I told you so._

"Well?" Raph prompted.

Leo stared at him for several painful seconds before answering. "Thanks, Raph."

The unexpected words caused a frown of confusion to furrow Raphael's brow. The hesitation allowed Leonardo to continue.

"If you hadn't have caught him-"

"-if we hadn't been there in the first place!" Raph cut in, frustration bubbling over as rage.

Leo's eyes widened fractionally, as the muscles across his shoulders stiffened.

"He could have cracked his head open again!" Raphael heatedly continued, with venom of self-loathing in his words. "We could be explaining to Splinter right now why our brother is dead!"

 _Just say it_ , he silently begged his brother. _Blame me. Tell me that you warned this would happen._

"I know!" Leonardo responded, his words tight and blue eyes intense. "I know, Raph!"

The leader briefly shook his head, before setting his jaw resolutely. "It won't happen again. I'll keep him safe, I swear it!"

He turned and walked quickly away, leaving Raphael staring after in shock. His own words, used against him, cut deeper than any blade.


	20. Chapter 19: Behind you

**Chapter 19: Behind you**

"You're not making any sense, Mikey!"

No, Raphael just wasn't listening! Frustration mingled with misery, but before Michelangelo could elaborate on his predicament the vehicle plunged into darkness as it entered the sewers.

Normally, Michelangelo didn't have to think about fighting. It just happened! He ran into the battle, nunchucks swinging, and enemies fell around him. Sure, he took the occasional blow in return or, more commonly, found himself singled out for crazed pursuit. But, even so, he didn't have to use the vast majority of his brain.

He'd not done anything different today. At least, he didn't think he had. When Leo had told them to fight, he'd tried to just throw himself into the battle as he usually would. Unthinking, unburdened, as if nothing had changed.

Everything was clear in his exceptional memory. The grips of his trusty weapons were worn to his hand shape. They sat comfortably in his palms, with slight grooves beneath where his fingers rested and deeper ones for his thumbs. The movement to set them spinning was so familiar that Mikey couldn't even begin describing how he did it.

His eyes had skimmed over the battle, taking in the necessary information without bothering to linger on it. A motley crew of human Foot Soldiers, accompanied by the ever-imposing Tiger Claw. Of course, Leonardo had targeted the big foe, leaving Michelangelo to mop up the lesser ninjas while Raphael guarded Donatello from any that broke through.

Seemed easy enough. Charging the first Foot Soldier, he'd drawn back ready to strike and…

He couldn't do it. He couldn't unsee what had been revealed. Behind the masks, there were people. Actual, real people. They had families; brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. If he hurt them, people would suffer. Someone would be thrown into grief and turmoil. Just like they had, when Donnie had fallen.

His own attack had been abruptly stilled by that chilling thought, but his enemies had no such compunctions. Instinctively, Mikey had reverted to fighting defensively. It bought time, it saved his shell, but it could not win the battle.

The more he thought about it, the more distressing it became. His whole life had been spent studying martial arts, under Master Splinter's careful tutorage. Learning how to strike from the shadows and bring down their foes. But who ever heard of a ninja who was worried about hurting their enemy?

Michelangelo gazed tearfully across at Raphael. As paradoxical as it seemed, part of him was desperate for his brother's wisdom. After all, Raph was easily the most aggressive of them all. If anyone knew about how to lay into a foe without hesitation, it was Raph. However, at the same time, Mikey doubted that his bellicose brother would even understand the problem of feeling compassion for an enemy.

Pins and needles shot down Mikey's arm, as the cold patch induced by Tiger Claw's ice-ray steadily thawed. It didn't really hurt, but he cradled his arm snug into himself anyway. As if he could hug himself tightly enough to make all the woe depart.

Heralded by deceleration, the Party Wagon pulled to a halt. Allowing Donnie to be eased out of the vehicle first, Michelangelo waited until the path was clear before he bounded out and over to where Master Splinter stood watching.

"Senseeeiii!" Mikey wailed, throwing his arms around his father and burying his face against the magenta robes.

The once coarse fabric had been softened through use. It felt thick and warm against Splinter's body, immediately imbuing Michelangelo with the feeling of comfort as he rubbed his wet cheek against it. He could feel the form of his father under the clothes. Soft fur, yet firmly honed muscles rippled beneath.

Mikey had clung to Sensei in this way many times before. As the years had passed, his view slowly changed. At first it had been Splinter's knees to which he clung, then his hip. Now, having reached what was likely to be close to his final height, Michelangelo buried his face in his father's chest. A hug with Dad never failed to provide the solace he sought, and he doubted that it ever would.

Yet Splinter's concern seemed to grow from the outburst. "Michelangelo? What happened?"

Mikey felt the hand rest comfortingly upon his head, but missed his father's gaze flicking briefly over to where Donatello was being aided to his room by his older brothers.

With a snuffle, Mikey reluctantly drew back to gaze up at his father. Eyes, the warmth and colour of glowing embers, looked down at him with both worry and expectation.

"Foot soldiers arrived," Michelangelo explained, tearfully. "We fought, but-"

"I mean… _they_ fought," he amended, with a sob. "Sensei, I couldn't hurt them!"

Splinter seemed disconcerted by this. "You were outmatched? By Foot soldiers?"

"No!" Mikey quickly replied, "They were… they were people, Sensei. Real people!"

Mikey moved a pace away, staring earnestly at his father with childlike eyes that were filled too deeply with emotion. Love and pain mingled closely together, creating a maelstrom that the young turtle struggled to contain.

There was a pause, while Splinter regarded Michelangelo solicitously and stroked his trailing beard. "I see." he said, at length.

Hope rose in the turtle's chest, fluttering away like the fins of a hatchling. Did Sensei understand? Could he help?

"Well then," Splinter started, "I shall offer you the same advice that I gave your brother."

Mikey leant forward, eager to hear his father's wisdom. There had to be a special mantra he could learn, that would mean he could kick butt just like he used to.

Or maybe it would be an awesome move, which meant he could take down any enemy without causing them harm. Yeah, that would be sweet. Mikey could picture it now… A special step in, a jab with the hand. Then, with a gentle caress, he would lower his foe to the floor where they would doze like a babe, completely unharmed.

The sound of a throat clearing snapped Michelangelo out of his fantasy. Splinter had knitted his fingers together across his stomach, and was standing tall with the familiar stance of a teacher instructing a student. Albeit with the slightly disapproving look of a teacher who knew his student was daydreaming.

Quickly, Mikey stepped back and stood straight. An eager smile settled upon his face, sweeping away the turmoil. A quick rub at his cheek to wipe away a stray tear, and he was ready to receive the knowledge his father would impart upon him!

"Look not at the enemy before you, but at those who stand behind," Splinter stated, sagely.

Mikey nodded eagerly and waited for the next bit. Where there would be a wicked move of sleep inducing. With backflips.

No further words came. Splinter stared at Michelangelo, and Michelangelo stared right back. As seconds ticked by, the turtle's enthusiasm sobered to uncertainty.

"And?" he prompted.

"And what, Michelangelo?" Sensei was frowning. "That is all there is to it!"

Mikey's brow furrowed. That was it? He just had to look behind him? Pursing his lips slightly, his mind spun in confusion as he struggled to grasp just how that was going to help.

"I suggest you spend some time in meditation, to think upon what I have told you," Splinter eventually said, shifting his weight slightly in impatience born of concern. "But I… I must speak with your brother."

The lesson was over, as his Sensei turned and strode swiftly away. For several long moments, Michelangelo stood still as he continued to try and understand how looking behind him would help him to fight. To aid his thoughts, first he glanced over one shoulder, then when that didn't seem to help he switched to the other one.

Maybe he had to be moving in a fighting way at the same time, he suddenly realised. Pulling out a nunchuck and setting it spinning with ease born of endless practice, he tentatively stepped forward while keeping his eyes fixed on the pinball machine behind his shoulder.

With a leap, as if he were launching an attack, the turtle promptly stubbed his toes against a discarded skateboard that was not in his reversed line of vision. Caught by surprise, Michelangelo dropped his weapon with a yelp and was lucky not to end up on his shell beside it.

That didn't seem right at all. Facing front again, Mikey stooped to retrieve the nunchuck, then tapped it thoughtfully against his chin. Slowly, little by little, comprehension started to dawn. Perhaps Sensei didn't mean look behind himself; he meant look behind the enemy! Then he wouldn't see whether the one he was facing was a person or not.

Yeah, the more he thought about it, the more that made sense. Well, that had been easier to figure out than some of Sensei's advice. Satisfied with his logic, Michelangelo stuck his nunchuck back into his belt and headed towards his room.


	21. Chapter 20: Painted turtle

**Chapter 20: Painted turtle**

As nice as the warm water felt, it was doing very little to shift the stubborn stain of paint from Leonardo's skin and shell. He should have spent more effort cleaning it off yesterday, he thought regretfully. But, after everything that had happened, the exchange with Raphael and then the interrogation from Master Splinter, he'd just wiped off the worst before retreating to the sanctity and privacy of his room.

Now the paint had hardened, meaning it was less about gently washing it off and more about brutally scouring it away from where it was fixed to his body. Perched on the small wooden stool, Leo attacked his leg for the umpteenth time with the scrubbing brush in one hand and the shower head in the other. His skin felt raw, and it was still the wrong colour.

The bathroom had once been the public toilets for the now disused station. Several of the cubicles remained near the door, as did the sinks, but the far part of the room had been gutted of the fixtures to create a wash area. It had been one of Donatello's first forays into plumbing, and Leonardo could remember several floods his brother had caused as he learnt the necessary skills.

From initially diverting what had once been tap pipes to attach a spray head, the facilities had slowly been improved over time. The shower had been enhanced, with a longer pipe and easier controls. Although mismatched, the tiling was complete and channels in the floor allowed the wet area to drain into the grate. An industrial kettle in the corner, not dissimilar to the ones they'd seen at the paint factory, made the deep bathtub that Splinter relished. Once upon a time, it could have housed them all.

However, right now, the large metal vat just gave Leonardo a constant, looming reminder of the near disaster that had been the previous night. For the second time in a month, he had almost allowed Donatello to die.

The night Donnie had been injured, it had been Leo who attacked Tiger Claw. That decision had caused the shot to stray across the battle. If only he'd aimed his blow from the other side, or targeted the pistol itself, then the shot would never have struck the chain and caused the gantry to fall. Donatello would never have sustained his life changing injuries.

Then, even being fully aware of his brother's disabilities, Leo had still allowed him to come along on the mission. If it hadn't been for Raph… If Donnie had fallen…

A lump formed in Leonardo's throat, the invisible hand of guilt clenching tighter than ever. He could still hear Raphael's words, as clearly as if they were freshly spoken. The furious blame within them, that Donatello had been permitted to come so close to serious harm.

His brothers trusted his decisions. There were times he had to put them in danger, for the safety of the world. But last night was not one of those times. Last night they were looking for information, trying to find out what the Shredder was up to. There was no immediate danger to them or the people of the city.

He should have pulled the team out as soon as he realised they were not alone, Leo thought bitterly. It had been his choice. He was the leader, and he'd failed to lead them to safety. Instead, he'd almost led Donnie to his death. Well, he would not make that mistake again. In future, he would be sure to err on the side of caution.

Over the sound of the water, the turtle heard movement in the other half of the restroom. It wasn't Splinter, as the rustle of fabric and gentle steps made his father easy to identify. Of his brothers, there was one most likely candidate at this time in the morning.

"Mikey?" Leo guessed aloud.

A few footfalls later, and a familiar face peeked through the curtains that offered a modicum of privacy to the wash area. They'd only added those once April started to regularly visit, as the brothers had no requirement for them.

"N-no. You need s… something, Leo?" Donnie asked.

It wasn't who Leonardo was expecting, and he was astonished to even see his brother up and about already.

"Oh, Donnie!" he said in surprise. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I needed th-the b-b… bathroom," his brother explained, before tilting his head slightly as he contemplated for a second. "R-red isn't… isn't… your colour, Leo."

A frustrated scowl crept across Leo's face. "I know! I'm trying to get it off."

Donnie stared blankly for just long enough to make Leo feel bad for snapping. But rather than seeming upset or annoyed, his brother abruptly brightened. "I can help!" he said, as he turned away.

Leonardo heard the uneven footfalls of his brother favouring one leg as he headed out of the room. A minute or so later, the footsteps preceded Donatello reappearing with a bottle and a rag.

"Th-this'll get it off," he promised, setting the two items momentarily aside so he could remove his wraps before entering the wet area.

Dark bruises ringed Donnie's ankle, and Leo knew they would be a perfect match for where Raph's fingers had roughly caught him and then resolutely clung on, as their brother had suffered a seizure while hanging upside-down.

"Turn the w-water off for a m-minute," Donnie instructed, as he came over to kneel next to the stool.

Leonardo did as he was bidden, then turned back to find Donatello struggling to open the safety lid on the bottle he was holding. Quickly, he reached out to take it from his brother.

"Here, let me."

For a moment or two after opening it, Leonardo held on to the bottle and gazed at his brother expectantly as he awaited further instructions. But when none came, and instead Donatello reached out silently to take the container back, he reluctantly returned it.

Trying not to grimace, Leo watched as Donnie seemed to be trying to pour a small amount over the cloth, but ended up maladroitly sloshing it over his hand instead.

Worried that the unknown substance was dangerous, the leader quickly snatched up the shower head to wash it away. But before he could turn the water back on, his brother stopped him.

"It's fine." Donnie stated, as he reached out to rub at the paint on Leo's leg with the soaked rag. "It's just… just… uh… min-mineral spirits. It's… it's a paint th-thinning solvent. A little bit w-won't harm."

"B-but I wouldn't in-inhale the fumes f-for too long," he joked. "O-or pour too much d-down the drain. It's n-not great for the e-envir-envir…env… e-en…"

"Environment." Leo filled in, helpfully.

Donnie hesitated, then nodded in agreement. "The Clean W-Water Act, states that… that…" He trailed off, gazing at the rag in his hand with a slight frown.

After waiting a few seconds, Leonardo gently prompted, "Donnie?"

"Huh?" His brother looked up. "Oh… I was just… I th-thought…"

His brow furrowed further, then he shook his head with a sigh. "No, it's gone."

The paint seemed to be loosening as Donatello resumed wiping at it with the soaked rag in his off-hand. Where the skin was rubbed raw the mineral spirits stung, but it was nothing worse than a mild irritant.

"Are you still having problems with your right side?" Leo asked, as he watched.

Donatello nodded. "Yeah. I… The p-part of… of my brain that c-cont… controlled it has died."

Leonardo's eyes widened slightly at the statement, so casually delivered. "It…died?"

A small smile twitched at the corner of Donnie's mouth as his brother's face took on the familiar look of intellectual superiority, combined with the slightly condescending edge of someone who had to routinely deal with the ignorant.

"Th-that's what happens w-with a t-t-traumatic brain injury," he explained in his professor voice, sounding inexplicably calm about it. "Part of my br-brain has died and… and it's rewiring a-around the dead bit, wh-where it can. But… it's slow and… things are missing."

Not sure how to respond to such a statement, Leo gazed at his brother incredulously. How could Donnie be so relaxed about the fact that part of his brain was dead?

"Hey…" Leo eventually asked, his voice soft as he struggled to understand. "What does it feel like?"

Donnie paused for a moment as he considered how to respond. "Like… being in a-a comic book store. But… th-the boxes have been up-ended, a-and the issues are m-mixed up and sc-scattered ev-ev-ever-everywh-wh..."

"Everywhere."

Donatello's hand tightened slightly on the cloth. "I… I know what I w-want to say or do, a-and I feel like I s-still can. But I just… just can't seem to… to… The words and… J-jumbled."

Leonardo nodded sympathetically, wishing yet again that there was more he could do.

"It's… it's fr-frustrating. Really frust-frustrating. E-especially when… when I-I'm trying t-to say something, o-or trying to do s-something, but can't." Donatello conceded, pausing for a moment before continuing. "B-but I h-hate the se-se-seizures the most."

"E-everything else I c-can g-get used t-to, or find w-ways to get a-around the issue." He haltingly explained. "B-but the s-seizures are more dif-dif-diffi-i…"

"Difficult."

His brother's face fell into a frustrated scowl. "Yeah. I w-was thinking about how t-to stop them and I h-had some ideas, b-but…"

"Like what?" Leonardo asked, his curiosity pricking. Hope flickered within him. Despite the challenges, would Donatello be able to find a cure?

"I'm not sure," Donnie replied, with a heavy sigh. "Yet. There… there are me-medicines to control seizures. B-but they need to be t-taken regularly, or it could make it worse. And getting a r-regular… regular s-supply…"

Leonardo nodded slowly in agreement. "Yeah… Not going to be easy."

He had to protect him. He had to make sure to keep Donnie safe, to give him the time he needed to become adjusted to the dramatic changes that had been imposed upon him. Even brain damaged, there was still that sparkle of sharp intellect nestled within. Leo clung determinedly to the hope that somehow, his brother would find an answer.

As the conversation lapsed into silence, Donatello set the mineral spirits and the rag aside, and picked up the showerhead to rinse Leonardo's shell and legs. To the leader's relief, the smeary paint now washed readily away.

"When are we g-going back?" Donnie suddenly asked.

Although he already suspected he knew the answer, Leo asked anyway in the hope that he was wrong. "Back where?"

"To the future," Donatello retorted, sarcastically. "Chr-chromahome, Leo!"

"We're not," Leonardo replied, simply. "Shredder knows we know about it. He'll have abandoned it by now and we left such a mess, it'll be crawling with police. It's way too risky."

"So, do we have anoth… another lead?"

"No."

Setting down the showerhead, Donatello looked thoughtful for a moment as he retrieved the rag. "Well, l-let's check out some of the oth-other truck destinations," he suggested as he reached out to wipe at the final few streaks of paint.

Leonardo hesitated a moment before responding. "We will, but… Donnie, I want you to stay here."

Dismay crossed his brother's features. "Leo, I… I'm ok. I-I'm getting better. What ha-happened, it was j-just…"

"Donnie, you fell head first off the gantry!"

Leonardo's eyes begged with everything he could muster for Donatello to understand. The danger was just too great. He couldn't put him in harm's way, not until they'd found some way to protect him from his disability.

An uncertain frown crept into his brother's expression, mingled with exasperation as he tried to form words quick enough to keep up with the argument. "B-but I have-"

"Please," the leader begged, inadvertently cutting Donatello off again. "Just stay in the lair."

"Leo! L-Listen, I… I ca-can't—"

"You can!" Leonardo insisted, reaching to grip his brother's shoulders. "Once upon a time, that was what you wanted! You can help us from here, where you're safe. Until-"

He didn't get to finish, as Donnie's lips set in a line and he jerkily twisted away. Leo found the bottle and rag thrust into his hands, before his brother grabbed his possessions from the side and swept out of the bathroom.


	22. Chapter 21: Temper

**Chapter 21: Temper**

Had Leonardo even heard a single word he was saying? The frustration at having sentences finished for him, his protestations silenced and the humiliation of being indefinitely confined to the lair flared within Donatello. But, by the time he reached his laboratory, it was being rapidly replaced with a stubborn determination.

As Leo had reminded him, there were times when Donnie would have quite happily volunteered to stay at home rather than face the deadlier enemies that the universe threw at them. Some nights he'd have willingly stayed in the relative safety and comfort of the lair instead of simply going out on patrol in the rain.

But having that door closed indefinitely, spending his lifetime buried beneath the city, was something he just couldn't endure. He'd spent fifteen years cooped up without really understanding what he was missing. Now that he'd tasted freedom, there was no-way he would allow it to be taken away.

It was true that he wasn't the turtle he used to be. Everything was so much harder now. Sitting down in front of his computer, the previously effortless task of using the mouse was next to impossible with his right hand and inexpertly jerky with his left. Still, with the tip of his tongue resting on his lip, Donatello doggedly persevered.

Predictably, Leonardo sidled apologetically into the room once he'd finished showering. Although fully aware that his brother was standing there, Donatello pointedly ignored him. However, it didn't take long before the leader spoke up.

"Hey…" Leo started, a slight hint of hesitation in his voice. "It's time for morning practice."

"What d-do I need to practice for, L-Leo? I'm not le-le-leaving the lair e-ever again, remember?"

Even Donnie was surprised by the venom he managed to inject into the words, and he saw Leo cringe before steeling himself to try again.

"Not forever, Donnie! If you come to practice, and regain your strength then-"

"I'll s-still be brain da-damaged."

He knew that he was making Leonardo feel bad, but right now Donatello found he didn't care. Still not to be dissuaded, his brother took a few moments before starting up again with a slightly different tact.

"Raph and Mikey are waiting in the dojo, with Sensei. Mikey's worried about you, why don't you come and show him you're ok?"

Donnie's eyes narrowed slightly, as he kept his gaze on the computer screen. So, the tactic now was to make _him_ feel bad instead? Not going to happen.

"G-go away, Leo. I'm busy."

"Donnie-"

His patience abruptly depleted, Donatello turned and stood. A glower shadowed his features as he pointed towards the door. "G-get out."

"But-"

"OUT!" Donnie bellowed, startling himself by just how loudly he managed to shout the word.

It had the desired effect, as Leo frowned uncertainly for a second or two before turning with a scowl and retreating from the room.

Donatello sat down in his chair, reclining with a sigh. Logically he knew that his brother was just looking out for him, and he almost felt a little bit guilty for throwing him out. But the guilt wasn't anywhere near enough to counteract the fact that Leonardo, with his hypocritical sympathy and metaphorical bubble wrap, was being really, really annoying.

Well, if he still felt guilty later then he could apologise then. Sitting back up straight, Donatello returned his gaze to the computer screen, which flickered invitingly with the collection of windows he had open. Right now, he finally had a chance to press on.

As the day trickled by, burdened by the need to stop periodically and rest, Donnie was eventually rewarded with the data from the trackers that had been planted on the trucks the Foot Clan were using to transport the stolen chemicals. Awkwardly scrawling notes that were barely legible, as his memory struggled to cling to more than a few facts at a time, the turtle steadily pieced together the information.

Aside from odd snatches of conversation that floated in from other parts of the lair, and the low hum of the television next door, the laboratory was blissfully quiet. Just the odd gurgle of the pipes that crisscrossed the ceiling, and a bubble or two surfacing from the murky tanks that nestled in the corner.

It was Michelangelo that eventually broke the peace. Donatello's younger brother appeared bearing a bright smile and a plate of food, which he placed on the corner of the desk with a flourish, along with a chipped glass of water.

"Lunch is served!" Mikey explained, superfluously.

When that got no answer, the youngest turtle blithely continued. "Are you mad at Leo? He thinks you're mad at him."

Donatello's gaze flicked briefly away from his notes, but he didn't let himself get distracted.

"I mean, I could totally understand that," Michelangelo said, cheerfully having a conversation all by himself. "Leo gets annoying sometimes. But not as annoying as Raph!"

Moving over to the map spread out on the other desk, Donnie picked up his pencil and carefully made a mark on the block he'd just referenced.

"So, whatcha doin'?" Mikey asked, moving to straddle the other chair. Hugging the backrest, he kicked off from the floor and span himself over to the desk to peer at the notes.

"W-working," Donnie muttered, looking back over his notes.

Michelangelo beamed. "Coolio, Bro. Whatcha workin' on?"

"Stuff."

"Ooh, a map!" his brother leant forward to look, then excitedly reached for the pen. "Oh, I see it! Here, let me-"

Donatello dropped his notes on the desk, turning with a scowl to where Michelangelo was poised ready to graffiti on the entire morning of hard work.

"Mikey!" Donnie snapped, lunging for the pen.

Ungracefully, he ended up stumbling over the chair legs as he tried to stand and fell across the map instead. The manoeuvre served his purpose, to stop his brother from writing on the diagram, but the bruise to his pride threw fuel on frustration.

Leaping up, Michelangelo was at his side a second later and helping him back to his feet. The gentle care added to the mortification.

"Whoa, you ok, D?" the little turtle asked, freckled face full of worry.

Donatello was humiliated and exasperated. But through gritted teeth he replied, "I'm f-fine, Mikey."

"Ok, good." Michelangelo breathed a sigh of relief. "You had me worried there, Bro! For a moment, it was like everything was completely normal. And then you were all like, 'Mikey, whoa! Spuh-lat!' I was worried that-"

Exasperation was abruptly pushed aside by its bigger brother: rage.

"No, it-it's NOT NORMAL!" Donatello shouted, drawing himself to his full height and towering over his diminutive brother. "It-it'll never be n-normal E-EVER AGAIN!"

Shocked at the outburst, the colour drained from Mikey's face and for a split-second Donnie was sure his baby brother was about to burst into tears. The expression twisted a knife of guilt into his guts, as Michelangelo turned and swiftly left the room.

Well, that was another brother he'd chased out that he'd need to apologise to later, Donatello recognised with a sigh. But it would have to wait, because right now he was still too annoyed, not to mention busy.

The afternoon wore on and the slice of pizza Michelangelo had thoughtfully brought through congealed upon the plate. The once cool glass of water steadily warmed. Both were ignored. Donatello fixated on his work for as long as possible, resting his head on his arms whenever he reached the limit of endurance, before starting the cycle all over again.

At first, the data seemed all but useless. After stealing the chemicals, the trucks just headed to a host of random places in the city. Donatello had checked the maps, analysed the satellite pictures and run a plethora of frustratingly clunky algorithms as he tried to find something to connect the dots.

But there was nothing. Or, at least, nothing his addled brain could decipher. From quiet backstreets, to busy intersections, to Times Square and the middle of Broadway. There seemed to be little linking them together. No patterns, no correlation. Nothing.

Then, finally, a breakthrough. After giving up on tracking the initial stop each truck had made after stealing the chemicals, Donnie chanced upon adding the locations to the map where the trucks went next. He expected to see them returning to their depots, and for the most part they did. But, before that, a few of them swung by Lower East Side, down near the Williamsburg Bridge.

It was an unusual detour to take and Donatello's excitement grew as he hooked onto a server with a live stream from nearby cameras. They showed a boarded-up warehouse at the end of a dingy alleyway. The area was cast ominously red from the fading light of the day. There were even a few dark clad teenagers and young adults lurking about the vicinity.

Well, if that didn't scream enemy hideout, nothing did. Sitting back from the desk, Donnie allowed himself a grim smile as he drummed his fingers against the notched surface. The sensible option was to tell Leo, then wave his brothers off as they went to investigate.

But, still smarting from the earlier events and not yet ready to reconcile, Donatello quickly decided that wasn't going to happen. Instead he mulishly committed to showing them that, even brain damaged, he was still more than capable of being a useful member of the team and doing the investigation himself.

Resolve honed to a razor's edge, Donnie abruptly got to his feet and turned to go and fetch his bo staff. The movement swung his arm wider than he'd planned, clipping the untouched glass of water and toppling it over onto his notes before it rolled leisurely towards the edge of the desk.

The turtle made a grab for it, but ended up bashing his knuckles on the wooden surface as the cup dropped over the rim. Plummeting towards the ground, the glass shattered noisily as it hit the concrete, sending the jagged chips skittering across the floor.

Donatello muttered a curse and cautiously stepped out of the shrapnel to head over and fetch the broom. Before he could get far, a sound drew his attention to the sliding doorway. Of course they wouldn't leave him completely unattended, the turtle realised bitterly. One of his brothers had probably been sitting right outside all day.

It was Raphael who burst into the lab, with a look of apprehension on his face that clearly betrayed what he'd expected to find.

"Not a s-seizure," Donnie stated, as he tried to snatch the broom from where it was propped. Instead, he knocked it to the ground. As it clattered eventually into silence, the turtle let out a frustrated sigh. "Just… clumsy."

Raph relaxed, walking over to retrieve the broom before Donnie had a chance. "Hey, no problem. I'll help you clear up."

As his brother swept the pieces of glass, Donatello grabbed some rags and started to mop at the water. Reaching the saturated paper, he paused to gaze at it. Williamsburg Bridge was pretty far away.

He'd been intending to take a vehicle and head there himself, but the seizure Raphael had expected to find sprouted a growing seed of doubt about his capability to drive. Yet another thing he was no longer able to do, he thought morosely to himself.

Slowly, reluctantly, Donnie conceded to himself that he'd need some help. Raising his gaze, he glanced across at Raph. Help was right here, but how should he persuade his brother to do what he wanted?

Unlike his two other brothers, who could generally be trusted to back away from a show of temper, getting angry at Raphael was virtually guaranteed to trigger a furious response that Donatello would regret way more than his hot headed brother. Besides, this time he wanted his brother to do more than just leave.

"Anything else you need, Don?" Raph asked, as he finished scooping the glass into the trash. "You want another drink?"

"Nah," Donnie responded, swallowing down his frustration and keeping his voice casual. "I'm gonna he-head out f-for a bit."

There was a brief pause of perplexity before Raphael replied. When he did, his voice was thick with scepticism. "Out?"

With a nod, Donatello grabbed his bo staff and then picked up the map from his desk. Across the room, his brother's expression darkened as he tried to work out how to deal with the clear intent to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I h-have a lead to check out."

"Donnie, wait!" Raphael frowned, "Shouldn't we all go?"

A quick shake of his head accompanied the words. "Y-you know that he w-won't let me. Go and t-t-tattle' if you want." Donnie gambled with the suggestion as he crossed by where Raph was standing. "I'll be gone b-by the time you get back."

Walking through the garage doorway, Donatello barely got two steps before a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"Wait. I'll drive."

Donnie managed to keep a straight face, despite the elated rush from success. "S-sure thing, Raph."


	23. Chapter 22: The stinkin' truth

**Chapter 22: The stinkin' truth**

Dropping down the last few rungs of the ladder, Casey landed in the sewers with a wet splat. The unidentifiable muck that booby-trapped the floor below splashed over the bottom of his jeans, emitting noxious fumes as it did so.

"Gross!" the teen cried in disgust. His tolerance to repugnance waste was high, but even he had some limits. Putrid sewer sludge was classed under revolting, and now it was stuck to his pants.

"It's the sewers, what do you expect?" April berated, as she finished pulling the manhole cover back into place and started her own descent.

Casey stepped aside to give her the space to climb down. "Yeah, but I just landed in a huge, steaming pile of-"

April cut him off with a neat, "I don't want to know."

Reaching the bottom of the ladder, he watched her pause to check before jumping down off the final rung. In doing so, she could avoid whatever it was that now coated Casey's legs below the knees.

"These pants didn't need washing for another week," the teen sulked, sticking his hands into the pockets.

Ignoring him, April stepped lightly around to head down the pathway that would take them towards the home of their unusual friends. With a sigh, Casey followed her. By the time they'd reached the next turning, the smell that clung to him was lost amongst the other odours of the sewer and his mind turned to other things.

"Hey, Red. Did you do the history paper yet?" he asked conversationally, as they hopped over a waste water filled channel.

"Of course," April replied, a hint of sickening pride in her voice. "I was even able to use some of my uncle's notes from the time he went down the Danube."

"The what-now?"

She sighed. "A big river, in Europe."

Casey paused in confusion, before following her down the next passageway. "Wait, was this Geography, or History?"

"History, Casey! Did you know that some of the earliest human cultures were sited alongside the Danube?"

He didn't, and he didn't much care either. But seeing April's eager face glancing back towards him, Casey realised that probably wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.

"Uh, no. But it, um, sounds interesting?" he offered. He'd been planning to ask her if he could copy her paper, but having her tell him what to write would work too.

"It is!" she gushed. "The Danubian culture is absolutely fascinating. There's a theory it was matrilineal, before being overrun by patriarchal invaders from the steppe. Of course, the theory is unsubstantiated, but it's a thought-provoking take on the prehistory of the continent."

Well, that plan wasn't going to work, Casey realised. It was like she was speaking a whole other language, one that he didn't care enough to learn.

In fact, he suddenly realised, she sounded an awful lot like Donatello. At least, as he used to be, before his accident left him stuttering his way through sentences.

Torn between deciphering a mixture of repulsion and sympathy for his rival and friend, Casey missed the start of what April was saying as she continued talking excitedly about her essay.

"- really interesting to investigate how the waterways have influenced so much of human history," she said, as they stepped over a pipe that crossed their route and headed around the next corner. "You just have to look at the maps to see that-"

"Hey!"

Both teens stopped in their tracks, looking in surprise at the overall clad worker that blocked their path. Middle aged, he was solidly built with greying hair at his temples and a wide chin. He'd been crouched down beside a workbox of equipment and seemed to have been collecting samples from the channel of waste water that gurgled to their left.

Getting to his feet, the broad-shouldered man scowled at the two teens with a clear look of disapproval.

"What are you kids doing down here?" he asked, suspiciously.

"We, um, uh…" April stammered in surprise as she floundered for an excuse. "We're, um, investigating the influence that waterways have on human history and, er-"

"Yeah right," the man cut in, completely unmoved. "You were lookin' for 'gators, weren't you?"

April's brow furrowed in confusion, "'Gators? Why would-"

"Yes!" Casey threw himself quickly into the conversation before April could destroy the line the man had handed them. "Yeah, we were looking for 'gators! See, I got in this bet at school… So, my girlfriend and I were gonna find a huge one and get a selfie."

April was giving him a filthy look, but he ignored her and instead plastered an inane grin on his face to add credibility to the story.

The man stared at them both for a second or two, before sighing heavily and scratching his neck. "It's always the same. Look, kid, there ain't no 'gators down here! That's just a legend. Trust me, I've been workin' down these sewers for years and never seen a 'gator."

"But the sewers," he continued, "they're dangerous. Look, you just got no way of knowin' where it's safe to walk. There are through flows, water traps, gas pockets… You could drown, suffocate, or if you fall into the wrong pool of chemicals it'll strip the flesh right off your bones!"

"We're very sorry, sir," April offered, with a degree of timidity so unlike her that Casey had to double take before he realised she was simply playing along. "We had no idea."

"Well, now you know," the man chided, before his expression softened, "Now c'mon, follow me and I'll show you the way out."

There was nothing to do but follow him, as he set off down the pathway alongside the flow of murky water. Casey saw April give a sideways glance down the passage they should have taken to get to the Turtles' Lair. But, accompanied by their gruff guardian, they had to continue along the prescribed route.

On the way towards the designated exit, they passed several other similarly attired workers who were meticulously taking samples from the murky pools.

"What you up to, Bob?" one of them called, sitting back on her heels and looking over towards the three of them.

"Found a couple of kids lookin' for 'gators," Bob explained.

The woman nodded gravely towards them. "There aren't any."

"That's what you think," Casey muttered under his breath, earning him a kick in the shins from April.

"When are we finishing up?" the woman then asked, directing her attention towards Bob.

"Finish your current set," Bob instructed. "Then we can clock off until tomorrow."

"Dawn again?"

"You bet."

As Bob set off again to lead them to the exit, Casey watched as April sidled a little closer and clasped her hands girlishly behind her back.

"Excuse me, sir," she asked, raising her tone to one of childish curiosity. "What is it you're doing down here?"

"Someone's been polluting the waterways with toxic chemicals," Bob explained, with bitterness lacing his voice. "'cept, we got no-idea where they're comin' from or who's responsible. Environment agency is spittin' feathers, so we got everyone pulling double shifts tryin' to find out what's goin' on."

"But don't you worry, we'll get to the bottom of it," he promised, giving April a wide smile that made Casey's hackles rise. "Even if we've gotta' search the whole sewer to do so!"

Reaching into his overall pocket, he pulled out a grungy business card and offered it to April. "Here. You see anythin', or your boyfriend gets any more dumb ideas 'bout gators, then you can contact me."

"Here we are," he then said, turning to gesture up at a ladder, "Just head up here an' get yourselves home, ok? No more 'gator huntin'!"

"Yes, sir," Casey agreed, nudging April forward to prompt her to start climbing.

Heading up after her, they found themselves inside a cordoned area surrounded by several vans sporting the logo of the municipal water services. Hurrying beyond the barrier, they ducked down the next alleyway before holding a rapid, whispered conversation.

"So that's what Shredder's up to! He's trying to find the turtles, or flush them out of hiding, by filling the sewers with people looking for the source of the chemicals!" April surmised.

Casey nodded quickly in agreement. "We gotta let the guys know, before they're discovered."

"But how do we get down there?" April asked, worriedly. "We don't want to get caught again. Do we wait until everyone's left for the night? It's already pretty late, and we have a midterm tomorrow…"

Even without the threat to his friends, the test didn't feature amongst Casey's concerns. But it was evidently important to April, so he shared another suggestion.

"How about we approach from the subway?" he suggested. "We're only a block away. If we head down, we can slip onto the track and approach from that side, where there's no sewer sludge for them to be testing."

She looked impressed. "That's actually a good idea, Casey!"

"Casey Jones is full of good ideas!"

"Just come on."

Popping out from the alleyway, Casey followed as April set off at a jog towards the stairway that headed down to the station below.


	24. Chapter 23: It takes two

**Chapter 23: It takes two**

Settling himself in the driver's seat of the Party Wagon, Raphael pulled the door closed before tugging the seatbelt over his shoulder and clipping it in at his hip. Turning, he watched his brother attempting to mirror the movement.

Part of him still couldn't believe that Donatello had manipulated him into heading out on some foolhardy errand. But, since he was here now, he'd resigned himself to the fact that they may as well get on with it. Still, there was a key piece of information that he was missing.

"Where are we going?"

"W-Wil-Willia-a-ah… Here."

Holding out the map, Donnie pointed to a side street down beside the Williamsburg Bridge, before going back to fumbling with his seatbelt.

Well, that gave them a destination. But the purpose was still shrouded in mystery.

"What are we expecting to find?" Raph asked as he turned the key in the ignition, prompting the engine to purr into life. Silently, he was hoping it was a new pizza place that his brother wanted to check out. Realistically, he knew that wouldn't be the case.

"A… a Foot clan h-hideout." Now clipped in place, Donnie straightened in his seat, with eagerness evident in his posture. "W-we might be able t-t-to find some… some… em-empty containers, o-or… or instr-instru-uh…uctions a-and finally get to the b-bottom of Sh-Shredder's plan."

"We might also find the Foot," Raphael pointed out. He stepped down on the gas pedal, prompting the vehicle to leap into motion and accelerate towards the streets above.

Donnie's face twitched with amusement. "I th-thought you liked b-beating up Foot soldiers."

Raph grinned. "Never said I didn't. But we're just going to scout it out," he added in a serious tone, as their vehicle headed out of the sewers and into a back alley. "Don't do anything stupid."

His foot heavy on the gas pedal, Raph shot the vehicle onto the streets and immediately hung a left, before ploughing straight through a junction he probably should have stopped at. Donnie hastily reached out to brace himself against the dashboard.

"Who d-do you think I am? You?"

That earned a chuckle, as Raphael obligingly switched his driving style from regular to granny.

Dusk had firmly settled over the city as they eventually pulled into a side street, just a short distance from their eventual destination. Exiting the vehicle quickly, Raphael stood and waited for Donatello to open the other door, once his brother managed to disentangle himself from the seat.

The two ninjas slipped into the nearby shadows and made the brief journey down towards the river. Motioning that he was going ahead, Raph inched forward to get a closer look at their destination.

The warehouse squatted in a rundown industrial estate. Behind, the Williamsburg Bridge stretched out across the dark water with the lights of vehicles twinkling along it. Hidden beneath the perpetual shadow of the structure, the building they were approaching epitomised the descriptor of dingy.

Crumbling concrete panels formed the walls, which were mottled with moss and dotted regularly with square windows. Where visible, the windows looked to have been painted shut through misguided maintenance, while the rest were haphazardly boarded up where glass no longer filled the gap. The tufts of grass that butted up to the edges of the building had grown long, but it wasn't enough to hide the trash that was strewn throughout it.

A fire escape was set into the side of one wall. Often it provided the entrance of choice for the turtles, but it was not a particularly easy route this time around. It was caged in by panels of a thick wire mesh that, unlike most of the building, seemed to be in good repair. Meanwhile the gateway at the bottom was secured with a substantial padlock that Raphael knew would be noisy to disarm.

Certainly, it would be within hearing distance of the main entrance, which was guarded by two youths attired in familiar garb. One was examining his cell phone in detail, but the other was watching the night with a keen-eyed gaze that the fiery tempered turtle didn't want to pit Donnie's current level of stealth against.

After a few moments longer, Raph turned back and spoke in hushed tones to his brother.

"Looks like you were right," he willingly conceded, a smile of pride on his lips that echoed happily against the face of the recipient. "There are Foot soldiers guarding the door."

"Can we g-get by?"

Raphael paused for a moment. It was seriously tempting just to be done with it and charge straight in. But he couldn't. Not today, not with Donatello beside him. Swallowing down his preference for direct action, he forced himself to err on the side of caution. Leonardo would be proud, he thought in mild disgust.

"There's no easy approach, and the door is open," Raph reluctantly explained. "If we cause a commotion, we don't know how many more might pile out to join in the fun."

For several moments Donnie digested this. Slowly, he suggested, "we c-can… g-go to… next st-street and…round the back. There's a b-b-b… b-base… base…"

Every stammer from his once eloquent brother felt like a knife to Raphael's chest. But with nothing more than a slight tensing of his shoulders, he forced himself to wait for Donatello to get the words out.

"B-base-basement d-door as it slopes down to the…the… river."

With no further persuasion needed, Raphael offered his brother a quick nod. The two backtracked a short distance before slipping along the next alleyway. A high security fence topped with mean looking barbed wire briefly threatened to hamper their route, but closer inspection revealed a hole through which the two turtles could pass with relative ease.

In the gloom at the back of the building, there was a padlocked but otherwise completely unguarded doorway.

"Huh, they're barely even trying," Raph commented, a mixture of amusement and disappointment in his hushed voice.

He glanced briefly around to assess whether a brief snick of noise could be overheard from this side of the building. Determining that it'd be fine, he spun a sai into one hand and had the lock broken in a matter of moments. Opening the door, the turtle gestured inside with a flourish.

Things had been going easier than he expected, but that didn't mean that Raphael was going to get complacent. Once they were both inside, he carefully closed the door behind them and stepped ahead to lead Donatello further into the Foot clan base. He had a duty to protect his brother from harm and he had no intention of shirking it. Especially after what had happened last time.

Twisting to glance back at Donnie once they'd reached the end of the second corridor, he found his brother had turned away to keep watch behind them. It gave a clear view of the gouge that bit through the shell and drew a line up to the angry scar that sat over the dent in his skull. The sight of it had not yet failed to create a feeling of sickness in the pit of Raph's stomach.

Even with the relative ease of their entry to the building so far, he'd still much rather Donatello was safely back at the lair. But he'd recognised that look of determination back in the lab. His brother really would have just set out on his own. At least, this way, he had a chance of keeping Donnie out of harm. More so than if his brother had tackled the infiltration alone.

Leo was going to be furious. Raph had briefly contemplated texting the leader to let him know where they were and that they were in no immediate danger. However, the idea had turned sour at the realisation that Leonardo would demand their rapid extraction, which would then infuriate Donatello. At least by staying quiet he was keeping one brother happy.

Besides, Leonardo had taken himself off to his room after lunch and not returned. If their eldest brother didn't realise they were gone, there was a chance they could do the mission and get back before he even noticed. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, as the saying went. Not that he really cared that much about Leo's forgiveness, or his permission…

Raph realised that Donnie had turned back towards him, with a questioning look that was clearly enquiring whether they were safe to proceed. With another quick glance to check the route again, Raphael gave a tight nod before moving further down the corridor.

Distant voices could be heard, with sudden articulations that made it sound to Raphael like a bunch of children playing at martial arts. His initial assessment wasn't far off, as the further the two progressed into the base the more evidence they saw that it seemed to be a hostel-cum-dojo.

It seemed that Shredder was picking up disillusioned teens and moulding them into becoming the Foot clan of tomorrow, Raph discerned. Or, more likely, he was gathering them to become cannon fodder.

Raph stared grimly into the next room they reached, which was crammed with the mismatched frames of bunkbeds, stained mattresses and tatty blankets. Dirty laundry was strewn across the floor and the whole area stank of stale sweat. It was worse than even Mikey's room.

It wasn't a place where Raphael wanted to linger, but necessity forced him to abruptly pull Donatello into the room at the sound of approaching feet. At least with all the clutter it was easy for a ninja to hide.

Hesitating to ensure his brother made it into one shadowed corner, Raphael swept into another just as a slack-jawed youth stepped into the room and stared blankly at the disarray of clothing.

Crouching down, the fledgling foot soldier pawed through several of the clothing articles that cluttered the floor. Mumbling to herself, she scooted closer to investigate a jacket that lay next to where Donatello's feet were barely hidden behind the frame of the bed.

Raph watched in growing concern. Any movement from Donnie would give him away, but staying still was dangerous too with the girl so close. Even with full control of movement it wasn't an ideal situation. But the clumsiness that his brother now had to deal with made it even more difficult.

Although he didn't particularly want to hurt the hapless girl, Raph knew that he would. If the youth managed to raise the alarm, the situation would swiftly turn against them. That couldn't be allowed to happen. He cared far more about his brother than any imbecilic kid that had lapped up Shredder's lies.

Donatello had evidently also realised the perilous situation. Raphael's trained eyes noted the change in shadows that accompanied subtle movement, as his brother tried to move further behind the furniture.

Another tense second or two ticked by. The pressure reached a peak as the youth straightened with the jacket in hand and seemed to stare directly at where Donnie was hidden. With muscles coiled tight, Raph reached for his sai and prepared to strike.

But he didn't have to. The youth abruptly sneezed, wiping her snotty nose against her wrist as she turned back towards the doorway. With a grumble, she slung the grotty jacket over her shoulder and finally left the room with no idea that she had never been alone within it.

Relaxing with an inaudible sigh of relief, Raphael stepped forward to convene with Donatello once the coast was clear.

"That w-was close," Donnie said, in hushed tones.

After a brief nod, Raph offered his brother a confident grin. "Yeah, but not too close. I'd have taken her down if she'd seen you."

"I c-could have… have… have taken her d-down myself."

Raphael hesitated momentarily at the glare he was being given. "Well… Yeah, sure Don. But I'm protecting you. I won't allow you to be hurt again."

Confusion flitted over Donnie's face. "You? A-allow me to be hurt?"

"Yeah. I pushed you too far last time," Raphael replied, shaking his head as he started to move towards the door, "But that ain't happening again. You just leave it all to me this time. I'm gonna make it easy for you."

"No way!"

Surprise stopped Raph in his tracks as much as Donnie grabbing hold of the rim of his shell. It gave his brother ample chance to continue.

"I d-don't want it to be easy. I want to d-do things myself!" Donatello explained, clipping the wall with his fingers as he moved his hand in a sweeping gesture. "I-I know I'm s-slow, and that it's hard. B-but I still want to try!"

He shook his head slightly. "Leo won't let me do a-anything. And Mikey? He doesn't want to believe anything h-has changed."

"Donnie, that's just because-"

"They c-care, I know," his brother interjected. "And… and I…"

He sighed, shaking his head as he examined his bruised knuckles, "I know that I need to accept some help. Things are more difficult now. I'm… I'm not as c-capable as I used to be."

Meeting Raphael's gaze, Donatello continued, "But… I'm not useless either. You're the one that made me r-realise that! I thought I'd lost everything, but you pushed me to ch-challenge myself.

"Sure, I don't always succeed…" he admitted, "but with each failure I learn, and with every success I grow stronger. That's the only w-way I'm gonna get my life back."

His brother's eyes were set determinedly. "That's why I need you, Raph. I need you to push me. Please!"

How could he refuse? There wasn't enough strength in the world to resist such a plea. With words dying on his tongue, all Raphael could manage was an initially cautious nod that strengthened itself into one of steely determination.

He'd do it. He'd push as far as he dared, but at the same time he'd be right there to catch Donatello at every setback and place him back on the path to success.

At the gesture of accord, his brother's expression softened and his velvety brown eyes filled with gratitude. "You're the only one who understands. The only one willing to help me to help myself. Without you, I don't know what I'd…"

He paused, a grin splitting his face. "Actually, yeah I do. I'd be on the couch, staring into space, being spoon fed by Mikey and coddled by Leo. But I'm not. I'm here! Thanks, Raph."

Shock rippled through Raphael as he reeled from the appreciation. How could his brother be saying all this? He'd caused all of Donatello's woes! He deserved hatred, not gratitude. But, at the same time, his younger brother's indisputable sincerity and giddy grin was weakening the foundations of the weighty pillar of guilt.

Lost for how to respond, for several moments the older turtle's mouth worked mutely before he dumbly stated, "You didn't stammer."

"Huh?"

"Nothin'," Raphael mumbled awkwardly, scratching one cheek. "Look, I'll help. You know I'll help. But… We need to talk to Leo and Mikey."

Before Donnie could protest, Raph quickly elaborated. "Later. Like, when we're not in the middle of an enemy base."

A smile raised the corners of his brother's mouth. "Sure."

Back in the hallway, the distant sound of the young people in their makeshift dojo could be heard echoing along the peeling walls. With more caution than he normally would exercise, Raphael hesitated an extra few seconds before moving off towards the next doorway.

The two had passed through a deserted foyer and into another winding corridor in the catacomb of a building before they finally hit the jackpot. A glass window set into the door gave view to a small office beyond, while a poorly attached label declared 'Sensei Judd's office'.

Filled with second hand furniture, the desk was stacked high with binders of documents, more of which filled the shelves that seemed to be barely clinging to the walls. In fact, one laden shelf was propped up with a roughly sawed piece of wood, the sort that was sure to inflict splinters on anyone brushing against it.

The surface of the desk was completely hidden by piles of discoloured paperwork, a line of half-filled mugs and a pungent array of leftover takeaway containers. Amongst all the clutter nestled a computer, its stained keyboard promising to hold a picnic of crumbs.

The two turtles shared a quick grin. Here, hopefully, was the information they'd been searching for. Slipping into the room, Donnie immediately sat down in front of the computer and tried to clear things enough to enable him to move the mouse over for his left hand.

Meanwhile, Raph paused upon entering to close the blind over the window in the door, a task that would have been easier if the cable to control it wasn't a tangle of knots. Spotting a bunch of keys on the side, he then experimented until he found the one that fitted the lock.

Confused, Donatello glanced briefly over his shoulder. "Did you just lock us in?"

Raphael shook his head. "No, I locked them out."

"Same d-dif… difference," his brother muttered, before resuming tapping away at the keyboard.

Perhaps so. However, given the disorganisation they'd witnessed of this place, it was likely that if someone turned up to use the office and found it locked, they'd have to wander off again to find a different set of keys and get access.

Raph's theory came under test just a few minutes later, as someone tried the door handle. Donatello immediately froze, glancing warily over towards the doorway. Raphael put down the sheaf of paper he'd been reading and slipped over to stand beside it, in the optimal position to take out anyone that entered. However, after a series of curses from the man in the corridor, their unwanted visitor turned and wandered away.

"Okay, locking the door was a good idea," Donnie conceded, once the footsteps ebbed.

"Just hurry up and get that information," Raph warned. "He'll be back."

Donatello nodded grimly and returned to the computer. He was trembling, Raphael suddenly realised in alarm.

Silently, Raph willed his brother to be quick, while simultaneously battling not to add to the tension. In between looking through some out of date rotas within the paperwork, he kept glancing over and trying to gauge the impossible; whether Donnie was pushing himself towards suffering another seizure.

It must be horrible, Raph realised in sudden empathy. To feel like a ticking time bomb, unable to know if or when a fit would strike. In the middle of doing something, then plunged helplessly into convulsions before waking up bruised and exhausted. Was that worry passing through Donnie's mind right now, as he worked on the computer?

He didn't know whether it'd help, but feeling compelled to try, Raphael reached over to rest a hand encouragingly on his brother's shell. "You got this, Don."

After a moment, Donatello twisted in his seat. "You're right, I have."

With one final tap, the printer on the far end of the desk whirred into motion and spat out several pages, which the turtle picked up and offered with a weary grin.

"Plans of where they're striking next, and d-details of another storage facility!"

Raph's face broke into a smile, and he offered his brother a hand to get back to his feet. "Atta-boy! Now, let's get out of here."

When Sensei Judd returned a few minutes later with the spare set of keys, he found the door swinging open and a post-it note with a cheeky smiley stuck to the computer screen.

The thought never crossed his mind that the office had been infiltrated by ninja turtles. Instead, he stomped away to chew out the usual suspects of practical jokes within the ranks of trainee Foot Soldiers.


	25. Chapter 24: Caught

**Chapter 24: Caught**

Reaching the end of the article he'd been studying, Leonardo closed the borrowed laptop with a click and sat back in his chair. His shoulders ached after spending so long hunched over the keyboard. It probably didn't help that he'd spent the early hours of the morning in a similar position trying to get the paint off after yesterday's disastrous mission, he thought ruefully.

Stretching his arms above his head, Leo flexed each shoulder in turn before lowering his hands back down to rest them on the notched surface of his orderly desk. A quick glance at the clock surprised him; the hour was later than he'd realised. Picking up the portable computer, he carried it with him as he hastily left the blissful sanctity of his bedroom and headed back down towards the living area of the lair.

As he entered, Michelangelo glanced briefly up from where he was fixated on a video game. Raphael, nowhere to be seen, must have tagged with him at some point, Leonardo deduced. Heading over to stand near his youngest brother, the leader put the laptop back where he'd found it by the cushions.

"Anything from the lab?" Leo asked, not sure what answer he was hoping for.

Mikey shook his head, performing an exaggerated lean to the side as he controlled his avatar on screen. "Nada, brah."

Did that mean Donnie was still being cantankerous, or that he'd cooled down? As he toyed with whether to try again to speak to his brother, another question popped into Leonardo's mind.

"Where's Raph?"

"Headed out."

Leonardo frowned. "Out? Where did he go?"

There was a pause as Michelangelo repeatedly tapped a button of the controller in the digit damaging fashion that the game demanded. Once done, he paused long enough to glance briefly over to Leonardo before stating, simply, "I dunno."

Leo sighed heavily. Just great, Raphael had wandered off _again_. Did he not realise what trouble it caused? Actually, that was probably why he did it, the leader thought bitterly.

"He and Donnie had a map," Mikey helpfully added.

He and… Leonardo looked up sharply. "Donnie? Donnie went out too?"

Michelangelo nodded, still gazing at the screen. "Yup, D found something or other and wanted to check it out. He told Raph he was going, and that he could go tell you while Donnie went by himself, or he could come along. So Raph went along."

Donatello had left the lair?! A scowl born of frustration and concern darkened Leo's face. The emotions also made themselves known in his voice as he snapped, "Mikey! Why didn't you stop them? Or come and tell me?!"

Shrinking away from the criticism, Michelangelo grimaced and finally stopped avidly focusing on the game.

"I would have!" he protested, before turning to stare unhappily at his hands. "But, earlier, Donnie… he… he shouted at me."

Something about the tone caused Leo to hesitate. But, vexed by the situation, he bluntly stated the obvious. "Mikey… Everyone shouts at you."

On screen, the avatar fell into a pool of lava and was incinerated. Despite his earlier concentration, Michelangelo didn't seem bothered. He just continued to gaze sadly at the controller. "But this time, it was because I totally messed up, brah."

Leo still couldn't see how that differed from usual, but he waited patiently for the elaboration that would follow. Mikey hated prolonged silences, Leo knew from experience that he just had to stay quiet and his little brother would fill the air with everything he needed to know.

"I told him everything was normal," Michelangelo sniffed, "because it felt like it! D was doing his computer stuff and I was helping…"

It was doubtful that Donatello would have described it as helpful, but Leonardo didn't voice his thoughts, he just continued to patiently listen.

"But when I said it, he got angry! Not his normal _Mikey-will-you-stop-juggling-the-volatile-compounds_ angry. He got really, really, really angry."

Tears started to fill the baby blue eyes. "He said things will never be normal. Ever."

Now it was starting to make sense. All this time, Michelangelo had been clinging steadfastly to the hope that Donatello would make a complete recovery. In the fantasy world of his youngest brother's imagination, Leonardo suspected that the four of them had achieved invulnerability.

But the truth was that harm could befall them at any time. They were individuals, each with a finite life. Having stared mortality in the face a worrying number of times, the leader knew it all too well. They lived in a dangerous world, fighting deadly battles with their foes. All it took was one small action. One decision. One stray shot, and things would change forever.

Slowly, Leonardo sank down onto the cushions next to his brother. "Well, he was right, Mikey," he explained, gently. "They won't ever be normal."

"But why?!" Michelangelo protested, "Why can't things just be normal?"

Leo took a slow breath, drawing on the memory of an explanation. "Because… Nothing remains the same, Mikey. Everything is always changing."

Mikey's bottom lip quivered. "That doesn't make any sense!"

Leonardo shook his head with a sigh, before taking the more direct approach of reaching over to give his little brother a one-armed embrace. "You didn't mess up, Mikey. I think Donnie's just… Finding things a bit difficult right now.

"You're not the only one he's yelled at today," Leo continued, ruefully. "But, right now he's out there with Raph, doing… who-knows-what. We need to find them, and make sure they get back safely."

"Before something worse happens?" Mikey suggested, suddenly brightening and tapping his hands together. "Oh! There were some notes!" Pulling away from Leo, he jumped to his feet. "D was writing notes!"

Leonardo followed as his youngest brother vaulted to the upper layer and headed swiftly over to the laboratory. Sliding the door open, Michelangelo approached the desk and picked up a damp pad of paper.

"Here," he said, offering the sheets with a cheerful beam, as if he'd just solved all the problems in the world.

"They're illegible," Leo stated, as he tried to make sense of the smudgy, scrawled writing that had bled all over the page. Donnie's handwriting used to be so neat, he thought sadly.

"Yeah, I think he knocked over his drink. Aw, and he didn't eat his pizza!" Reaching over, Michelangelo retrieved the plate with a lick of his lips. "Well, it'd be a shame to waste it…"

Leonardo frowned at that, however before he could comment there was a noise from the living area of the lair. Both turtles turned their heads, but it wasn't their missing brothers. Instead, April's voice rang out with an urgency that immediately grabbed their attention.

"Guys! GUYS! Where are you?!"

Something must have happened, Leo realised in horror. Had Raph or Donnie contacted them? Were they in trouble? Racing for the door, he barely beat Mikey in bursting through it and hurrying over to where April and Casey had just vaulted the turnstiles.

"The sewers are crawling with people from the environment agency!" April hastily explained, as soon as the turtles came into view.

A chill of dread ran down Leo's spine. This part of the subway was disused, there weren't meant to be people working down here!

"The chemicals, they're polluting the sewers. They're searching for the cause!" April continued, taking brief gasps as she tried to catch her breath while continuing to quickly talk.

"Shredder's using them to find you," Casey added, "The Foot are watchin'. Soon as you're discovered, they'll be here to crash the party!"

Battling dismay, choices began to flood the leader's mind. Should they prepare to defend their home? Should they evacuate? They'd already lost everything once and had to flee to the farmhouse. Did they go there again?

Last time, they'd come back to the lair and rebuilt it, once the Kraang had been destroyed. But this time, if their home was so publicly discovered, they might never be safe to return.

Fighting to keep his emotions contained and his mind fixed on the logistics of the situation, Leonardo homed in on what was important. For a start, he needed to establish just how close the workers were to discovering them.

"You've got tonight." April stated, cutting into Leonardo's thoughts as if she were reading them. "The workers were about to clock off. But they're gonna be back again first thing tomorrow."

Casey nodded. "They're only a couple'a tunnels away!"

Mikey, listening in open mouthed confusion to the rapid fire conversation, tried to clarify. "Whoa, there are people? Coming here?"

April and Casey both nodded.

"To party?"

Leonardo cringed. "No, Mikey. They'll be being watched, and the message will… Look, just…" He cut to the chase. "Shredder's on his way here, to destroy us."

His brother's eyes widened in alarm, and he hopped nervously from foot to foot. "Shredder? Coming here? Leo, what do we do?!"

A decision was needed, quickly, and as the leader Leonardo knew that it fell upon his shoulders. Did they fight, or did they flee? Caution, he reminded himself. After what had happened last time, he needed to ensure their safety first. This time, he wouldn't hesitate to take the prudent choice.

Forcing himself to take a calming breath, Leo was relieved at how steady his voice sounded. If he could keep projecting an aura of steadiness, hopefully he could prevent the others from becoming rattled.

"We evacuate," Leonardo decided, authoritatively. His eyes settled on where his little brother was still bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet. He needed something to do with that nervous energy. "Mikey, go and fetch Sensei."

Nodding quickly, Michelangelo immediately bounded off towards the dojo, beyond which was Splinter's room.

"Ugh, what a time for Raph and Donnie to wander off," Leo lamented, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. "We need to find them, as soon as possible."

"They're missing?" April asked, worriedly.

"We're right here."

Raph's voice rang out from the laboratory doorway, having evidently entered the lair via the garage, and drew all eyes in that direction.

Leo felt his heart leap into his throat. Donnie was cradled in his brother's arms, eyes closed and head slumped against Raph's shoulder. His long limbs barely missed a collision with one of the sliding doors, as Raphael was forced to twist sideways to step through the gap between them.

"Donnie!" April cried, at the same time as Leonardo bounded towards the laboratory.

"What happened?!" he demanded, fear empowering the anger in his voice, while his eyes searched frantically for injuries on his younger brother.

Seeing Donnie's chest slowly rising and falling with each breath gave a miniscule amount of reassurance. But his skin was pale, making the pink tinged spittle on his lips stand out vividly.

"He's fine, Leo," Raph stated bluntly, shouldering past as he carried Donnie down towards the cushions. "He's just tired out."

Leonardo had to battle to keep the edge of hysteria from dominating his voice as he helplessly followed Raphael across the room. "Our definition of 'fine' is not the same! What happened?! Did he have another seizure? Where were you? Why did you leave without telling me?!"

"Because I wanted to." Raph defiantly narrowed his eyes. "And because Donnie wanted to."

How did Raphael continuously manage to choose the worst possible times to challenge his authority? Leonardo ground his teeth together, biting back various unsavoury retorts he'd have quite liked to fling in the face of his mule-headed brother at that very moment. Instead, he searched for one that wouldn't get him harshly admonished should Master Splinter happen to walk in and overhear.

Raph was carefully placing Donnie onto the cushions as Leo finally unclenched his jaw and spat back with, "You… You can't just do whatever you want, Raphael!"

With insolence rippling in every muscle, Raph slowly straightened. "You think you can stop me? Huh, Leonardo?"

Casey was watching the exchange with the infuriating grin of someone whose enjoyment of the unfolding spectacle could only be improved with popcorn.

Meanwhile, April had hurried over to crouch by Donatello's side. "Leo," she cut in, before he could confront the challenge his brother had presented. "Don't you need to start packing?"

Leonardo grimaced, battling to keep his temper under control. Yes, they needed to start packing. Now was not the time to be arguing. He had to be the bigger turtle here, and not let Raphael get under his shell. There would be time once they'd evacuated to have this… debate. Again. Right now, there was so much that needed to be done, and so little time.

April's statement caused Raph's brow to briefly furrow, before he turned to Leo with a mirthless smirk on his lips. "Packing?" he mocked. "Takin' a vacation, Fearless?"

"We're evacuating," Leo stated firmly, refusing to let himself be goaded. "Shredder's plan all along; it was to pollute the sewers and get the environment agency workers to hunt us out."

"Well, duh."

That caught Leonardo off guard. "You knew?"

"Donnie tracked down one of their hideouts. We broke in, and he logged into their computer system," Raph stated triumphantly, as he retrieved several pages of computer printouts from his belt. "They're also planning another chemical raid and drop on Saturday, and we've got the location of a warehouse where they're keeping a further supply of chemicals in preparation."

He grinned darkly, cracking his knuckles. "All we gotta do is shut it down."

Walking over to take the paperwork, Leonardo stared down at it for a few moments. So, that's what his brothers had been doing. He had to admit, Donatello had been far more successful in finding something from the data than he'd been. But, at what cost?

Leo shook his head and levelly met Raph's gaze as he set the papers aside. "We don't have until Saturday; the lair could be discovered tomorrow. We need to evacuate. Tonight."

"Evacuate?" Raphael repeated, his tone rising with the question and promising that such a decision was not going to be accepted without an argument. "Leo, we just gotta scare 'em off. This is our home!"

"I know!" Leo replied, tension building in his voice as he prepared to enforce his decision. "I know, Raph! And we could, but Shredder is gonna be watching, monitoring what the workers are doing. All it takes is one report that they saw ghosts, or aliens, or heard an explosion, and he'll have his henchmen sniffing around down here quicker than Mikey eats pizza."

"I like the explosion idea," Casey contributed.

Leo whirled on him. "You're not helping!"

He turned back to find Raphael had stepped forward to leave barely a gap between them, and was drawing himself up intimidatingly. Reflexively, Leonardo squared his shoulders and braced himself.

"I'm not leavin', Leo," Raph stated, his eyes glittering dangerously. "I'll fight for our home, even if you won't!"

"It's not safe to stay here!" the leader insisted, watching warily for the first muscle twitch that would betray his brother was about to make the quarrel physical. "I don't want to leave any more than you do, but I would rather find a new home than risk losing any of you."

"You think we're not capable of taking down a few Foot soldiers?" Raphael retorted, his lip curling angrily.

"Not at the same time as all Shredder's henchmen, and maybe even Shredder himself." Leonardo pointed out. "Not with Donnie out of action, and Mikey—"

"We'll have Sensei on our side!"

"We're still outnumbered!"

"I WON'T RUN AWAY!" Raphael thundered, clenching his fists.

"LIKE LAST TIME?!" Leo roared back, snapping his hands up to shove roughly against Raph's chest and push his brother away. "When we didn't run away, and it nearly _killed_ Donnie? Is that what you want? To keep your _home_ , but lose your _brother_?"

The blood drained briefly from Raphael's face, before flooding back in a rush. "You can't pack him in bubble wrap, Leo!" he bellowed, throwing a sudden punch towards Leonardo's shoulder that the leader barely managed to dodge.

"You think I don't know that?!" Leo retorted, bitterly. Protecting his brothers from every risk was impossible, but throwing Donnie into danger after he'd been so critically injured was madness.

As Raph stepped forward to attack again, Leo quickly threw his arms up to defend while simultaneously ducking into a spinning kick. It connected with the edge of his brother's shell, sending him stumbling to one side and keeping the distance between them.

Raphael quickly righted himself and spun around to lunge back into the fight with fists raised. "He's never gonna improve if you don't let him _try_ , Leo!" he insisted, frustration lacing his words and adding power to the attack.

Expecting the retaliatory blow to come from the arms, Leonardo was moments too slow in reacting to the unexpected low sweep and found his legs brushed out from under him. Crashing down onto his shell, he used the momentum to roll backwards and vault clear just in the nick of time, as Raphael dove forward and punched down onto the concrete where he'd been sprawled a second previously.

"Raph!" Leo snapped in exasperation, hopping back to stay out of his brother's reach. "We don't have time for this!"

Raphael jumped up angrily, with indignant fury lacing his words. "Then run away and hide! That's what you do best."

Bristling, a shadow crossed Leonardo's cool blue eyes as his temper finally got the better of him. With a yell of vexation, he lunged to strike his brother. This time, with the intention to knock some sense into him.

"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?" boomed the sudden voice of Master Splinter, as he emerged from the dojo, trailed by Michelangelo. His eyebrows, initially raised in surprise, arced down dangerously as anger darkened his expression.

Leonardo instantly froze, his right arm still raised to strike a blow that would never connect. A mixture of alarm and guilt crowded out the rush of anger, replacing the hot wave with icy dread. Fighting amongst themselves outside of the dojo was strictly forbidden, something all the turtles knew well.

Of course, that rarely stopped Raphael once he got the bit between his teeth, and this wasn't the first time Leonardo had been exposed in a similar situation. From countless previous experiences, all the teens knew that getting caught brawling elicited some of Sensei's worst punishments.

About to assert to Master Splinter that he'd only been defending himself, Leo was cut off as Raph's fist abruptly impacted with his face. Toppling back ungracefully onto his rear, the leader had to spend a moment waiting for the stars to clear before he put a hand to his cheek and glared at his brother.

"Raph!" he objected, although it was lost against the louder bellow of Splinter.

"RAPHAEL!" their father admonished, in a tone that had the hot-headed turtle wincing in apprehension.

Straightening, Raphael quickly pointed a condemning finger down towards where Leonardo was still sitting on the floor. "He started it, Sensei!"

Gaping at the accusation, Leo had just taken the breath he planned to use in protesting his innocence. But, before he had chance to speak, the air suddenly filled with a loud, grinding clunk that emanated from outside the lair.

They'd argued too loud and too long, Leonardo realised with a growing sensation of dread. Their enemies had found them. His stomach dropping in fear, the leader immediately leapt to his feet and assumed a combat stance, as he prepared to battle for his home and his family.


	26. Chapter 25: Unaware

**Chapter 25: Unaware**

April's expression darkened as, despite her warning, Leonardo and Raphael continued bickering. Did they never tire of coming to blows with one another? Surely they had more important things to worry about, such as packing up and evacuating before Shredder and all his henchmen invaded the lair. Or even the fact that their brother was unconscious on the cushions beside her.

"S-so noisy…"

April's head whipped quickly to Donatello. She'd feared he was out cold; he'd seemed so lifeless as Raphael had carried him into the lair.

But now his eyes were starting to open and there was a hint of colour returning to his face. With a slight groan, he apprehensively moved his tongue as he assessed the damage that his teeth must have inflicted.

"Donnie, you're ok!"

Nodding, he wearily turned to look at her. "Yeah… Well, m-mostly ok."

Blinking hazily, he slowly glanced over to where the argument was continuing loudly between the two eldest turtles. "Wh-what's going on?"

April followed his gaze, before offering a succinct explanation. "Shredder's getting close to finding the lair. Really close. Leo wants to evacuate, but Raph… Well, he wants to stay and fight."

"Oh…" Donatello yawned, before stretching a shaky hand towards the other side of the seating area. "Can you p-pass me my laptop?"

April frowned slightly. "Donnie, you should rest!"

"I will," he promised, "but I really need to do s-some-something first!"

She cast a critical gaze over her friend. He looked tired, to the point of debilitation, but also had a pleading look that made it very hard to resist his request. She just hoped he wasn't about to send himself into another seizure.

Although, that might get Raph and Leo's attention away from quarrelling with one another, she thought scathingly.

"Well, all right," April reluctantly agreed, walking across to pick up the laptop and bring it over to him. "But whatever it is, let me help!"

Conceding to that with a nod, Donatello shuffled to sit up slightly and then patted the seat next to himself. April parked herself into the space before opening the screen and awaiting further instructions. Knocking his hand against her arm, her friend leant across to see.

The screen didn't seem that bright to April, but Donnie winced and shielded his eyes the moment he tried to peer at it. She watched sympathetically as he sprawled back again across the cushions, leaving one hand protectively at his forehead with his eyes closed. Instead of walking her through it, he instead elected to work purely from memory.

"Ok, um… W-win-key R," he slowly instructed. April pressed the buttons, and waited for him to tell her what came next.

For several moments Donatello was silent, and she was just starting to wonder whether he'd fallen asleep on her when he haltingly continued, "Ah… It was… B-A, er, S-E-D-E-F, um, C-O-N, then the number four."

"No, wait…" he corrected as April began to type. "Number three. D-don't wanna arm it, yet."

"Arm what?" April asked curiously, as she tapped in the command and hit enter.

A window popped up, asking for her to confirm whether she was certain she wanted to proceed.

Donnie yawned again before mumbling, "It might get noisy. H-hope it works… Never fully tested…"

"Should I hit yes?" April checked, glancing to her friend.

"Mm," Donatello murmured, his handing slipping down to rest beside her and his assertion unclear.

For a few uncertain moments, April wondered whether to proceed or not. She wasn't quite sure what was going to happen; why was he worried it'd be noisy? With Donnie exhausted enough to drift off mid-conversation, it didn't seem likely that he'd be in a good state if she had to try and rouse him back to wakefulness if something went wrong.

But then, it was just a computer program. There was no way that Donatello would knowingly sabotage his own equipment or endanger the people he cared about. She didn't recognise the executable, he must have written it himself, meaning it was more likely to be of benefit than hindrance. Although, there had been more than a few previous occasions where things hadn't quite gone to plan…

"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?"

The sudden sound of Master Splinter's thunderous voice breaking up the argument between the two quarrelling turtles caused April to jump, and in doing so she inadvertently clicked the button.

Well, she couldn't take it back now. Watching in trepidation, she saw the message box abruptly disappear as it was replaced by the black command window, which quickly started to fill with lines of code. The lines scrolled by too quickly for her to read more than a few words as they whizzed up the screen.

EXECUTING … TERMINAL … PERIPHERY …

"Uh, Donnie?" April asked, turning nervously towards him. But he hadn't even roused from Splinter's raised voice, so her gentle query did nothing to stir him.

She glanced across at the others just in time to see Raph clout Leo in the face, and hear the admonishment from Master Splinter that immediately followed.

"He started it!" Raphael protested.

Before anyone could dispute that, a series of thuds and clunks suddenly erupted from around the outskirts of the lair. From towards the turnstiles then came a mechanical whirr, while a scraping noise echoed from the station. Dust, stirred up by movement, started to drift across the area like a smoke screen.

Aside from the dozing Donatello, all the mutants in the room reacted immediately with the skill and speed that years of training provided. Their dispute forgotten, Leonardo and Raphael turned shell to shell to watch both the entrances to the lair as if a hoard of mousers could be upon them at any second. Meanwhile Michelangelo moved closer to Master Splinter, fists raised and eyes flicking quickly about as he searched for the threat.

Casey, significantly less poised, flapped his arms as he looked around in wide-eyed alarm. "Dude! What was that?!"

April cast her eyes down to the screen. A new window had opened that just seemed to contain a series of shapes drawn onto a grey background. But, after another few seconds, she realised that together they formed an angular floorplan of the lair.

The boxes around the edge of each map segment contained circles. Initially they'd been green, but they were steadily turning amber before progressing to red. The command window of text had relocated itself towards the bottom of the screen. It continued flicking quickly through coded commands, but April had learned enough to finally realise what she was looking at.

Glancing at her dozing friend, she reached out with a hand to pat his plastron. "Nice work, D."

Did she imagine the slight smile that seemed to form on his lips? Before April could decide, she realised the others had turned to her with a mixture of worried and expectant looks upon their faces as they awaited what they hoped would be an explanation. Although, in the meantime, they were all still poised to fight the perceived enemy.

"It's a defence system." April hastily explained, turning the laptop around and indicating the various elements on screen. "See, here are the turnstiles, and over there…"

Almost as one, the mutants relaxed their stances. Meanwhile Casey went back to sticking his hands nonchalantly into his pockets, as if nothing had ever happened.

Continuing her explanation, April gestured towards the entrance where, beyond the barriers, there was now a reinforced shutter that had clunked down into place. "The red circle indicates that the exit is sealed off."

"We're locked in?!" Michelangelo exclaimed.

Raphael suddenly chuckled. "No… They're locked out." He glanced over towards Leonardo with oozing smugness. "Looks like we don't gotta leave after all."

With a sigh, Leonardo spread his hands in assent.

"But _we_ do," April pointed out, gesturing towards herself and Casey. "We have midterms tomorrow!"

"I think I see how this works now," she added, twisting the laptop back towards herself and clicking experimentally. "If I do this, then…"

Everyone glanced over towards the station, as the sound of movement began once again.

"There," April said, pleased with herself. Getting back to her feet, she held out the screen to Leonardo and showed him, "you just need to click on this button once we're out, and it should bring the barrier back down."

"I had no idea Donnie set this up," Leonardo replied, taking the machine and glancing at his sleeping brother with a mixture of surprise and respect.

"I remember him fussing about with something at the exits after we got back from the farmhouse," Raphael offered, before shrugging. "But that was where my interest ended."

"Well, be sure to thank him when he wakes up," April suggested, with a wink. "As without the defences, you'd be heading back to the farm."

"Or, we could hav—" Raph started, only to be cut off by a glare from Leo.

"Just drop it," the leader warned. "You got what you wanted. We'll plan an attack, for Saturday."

"I'm in!" Casey stated, earning him a pleased nod from Raphael.

April nodded too. "I'll help. But right now, Casey and I need to go and get some sleep before our exam."

Casey had a look on his face that said he'd rather do anything but that, but he didn't object to April grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards the exit.

"Later!" he called back, earning a succession of nods and waves in return.

Behind her, April heard Leonardo instructing his brothers. "All right, let's get Donnie to his room, then we should all get some rest too."

Glancing back as Master Splinter suddenly cleared his throat, April saw the two eldest turtles abruptly halt their movements and cringe in unhappy expectation.

"You may take Donatello to his room, and Michelangelo may head to bed," their father permitted, before his eyebrows raised dangerously. "Leonardo. Raphael. You will then return here, to face the consequences of fighting one another outside of the dojo."

Not envying her friends, April slipped quietly away to the sound of the teens responding as one with a despondent, "Hai, Sensei."


	27. Chapter 26: Rhyme and reason

**Chapter 26: Rhyme and reason**

Consciousness returned to Donatello not like the flick of a switch, but more akin to the slow drip of a leaky tap. Cocooned in a blanket and wrapped up in the comfortable warmth of slumber, he resisted awareness until the last possible moment, when the final tendrils of sleep were vanquished and he could dip into dreams no more.

"Donnie?" The insistent use of his name accompanied another tap at the door.

With a wide yawn, Donatello had just about managed to rub his eyes and start pushing himself up to sitting when there was the creak of the handle being turned. Balancing a plate on his elbow until his hand could safely return to it, Leonardo used his shell to push the door the rest of the way as he backed into the room.

"Good morning!" he chirped, laying on the cheeriness too much for it to all be real. But then, Donnie thought wryly, Leo had never been particularly good at deception.

"Hi, Leo." His own tone sounded almost cold in comparison. Perhaps deliberately, as snippets of the previous day began to creep back. Leonardo had sought to bench him, permanently, Donatello recalled sullenly.

Not that it had worked… Alongside Raphael, he'd left the lair as soon as night had fallen. They'd broken into a Foot hideout, where he'd been able to hack into the computer system and download reams of useful information.

Not bad for someone with a traumatic brain injury, Donnie thought smugly to himself. However, the feeling passed quickly, replaced with uncertainty. Would Leo see the success and grant him a reprieve from the order to remain in the lair? Unlike Raph, he didn't want to have to keep sneaking out. He wanted to be part of the team, same as he'd always been.

Walking over to the bedside, Leo placed a plate with several slabs of buttered toast and glass full of orange juice down onto the table. "Mikey made you some breakfast," he said.

Leonardo then moved to perch on the edge of the bed, causing Donatello to hesitate and narrow his eyes slightly. His brother clearly intended to stay for longer than just to deliver some food. Was he here to condemn him for sneaking out? Or commend him for retrieving the information?

"You should eat," Leo encouraged, after several moments of silence. "I've been reading some articles and medical journals. Eating a regular, balanced diet is meant to lower the risk of seizures."

Donatello's astonishment at the revelation that his brother had been conducting independent research must have shown clearly on his face, as Leonardo quickly suppressed a grin of amusement.

"The rest of us are capable of reading more than comics, Donnie," he pointed out, before pausing to reconsider. "Some of us. Okay, mostly just me."

Despite himself, Donatello couldn't help but chuckle.

Thinking about it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had something to eat. Yesterday? Or… Had it been the day before? Either way, the smell of the toast was wafting over, causing his stomach to growl hungrily.

Donnie picked up one of the thick wedges of bread. It was still blissfully warm, with a generous dollop of golden butter oozing over the toasted surface.

"Th-thanks," he said, gratefully, before biting into the slice.

Leonardo smiled. "You're welcome."

Finishing off the first piece of toast, Donnie hesitated before reaching for the second. Leo was still sitting benevolently on the side of his bed, hands resting upon his knees as he lingered. While at first glance his countenance was one of patient care, behind it was the reticent shiftiness which clearly stated he wanted to say something but hadn't quite brought himself round to spitting it out.

A knot of fear was beginning to grow in the pit of Donatello's stomach. All this; the food, the understanding, the kindness… It was a mask, hiding the real reason for Leonardo's visit. Then, suddenly, everything became as clear as crystal.

Since ordering him to stay at the lair had clearly not worked, his brother was instead going to employ a far more terrifying tactic. Reason.

Flustered, Donnie knew he had to do something to convince Leonardo not to apply the full force of logic to imprison him in the lair for the rest of eternity.

"Leo I… I'm sorry about sh… sh-shouting at you, yesterday," Donatello abruptly apologised, tumbling over the words in his rush to articulate them. "I… I should have told you before heading out.

"B-but I did need to be there," he continued, pleadingly. "You'd have needed me! On the c-c… c-c-com… c-computer. No-one else could have got that in-in-in-in…inf-inform-mation!"

Leonardo, initially startled, quickly settled down to wait patiently through the stammer with a bemused and yet affectionate expression. "Well yeah, we need you, Donnie. But not just on the computer. We need you because you're part of the team, and our brother.

"Asking you to stay at the lair, it was never because we don't need you with us," Leo explained gently, reaching out to protectively cup his brother's face with one hand. "It's because we can't risk losing you.

"I want to help you regain your strength," Leonardo implored, "and to find ways to reduce the danger of you having a seizure. Then, when you come with us, I won't have to worry."

Happiness erupted within Donatello like a dazzling array of fireworks. He wasn't permanently expelled, his brother wanted him to still be a part of the team. Nor was he about to be imprisoned by rationality. Despite his debilities, he still had so much to offer.

"You do worry t-too much," Donnie pointed out, trying to play it cool despite the party that was currently happening within his limbic system. Yet he couldn't hide the joy that lit up his expression.

His brother smiled knowingly in response. "Perhaps."

However, the moment stopped as Donatello unexpectedly frowned, once his eyes had chance to linger upon Leonardo's face. "Wh-what happened to your cheek?"

Leo quickly withdrew his hand. "Huh? Oh…" He gingerly touched his fingers to the bruise that marred one side of his head.

"Raph," he admitted, begrudgingly. "We, uh… Had a disagreement over… Uh, a few things. But mostly whether to evacuate, when it seemed likely the lair was going to be discovered."

Donatello was silent for a moment, as his sluggish mind pawed through the lost property box of memories. "I… I r-re…remember…" he started, slowly, frowning down at the bedsheets. Then, abruptly, he glanced back to his brother with a gasp.

"The base defence system! Did it-?"

Leonardo calmly raised a hand. "It worked perfectly, Don. Everything's locked down, they can't discover we're here. We really owe you one."

Relaxing, Donatello grinned widely before reaching for the other slice of toast. "L-like a turtle do!"

Mikey had been overindulgent in the application of butter, and it dribbled off the bread and onto the side of Donnie's thumb. He was just licking it clean as Leo took a deep breath and spoke again, with a hint of reluctance in his expression.

"So, um, do you feel up to coming to morning practice?"

Currently engaged in a battle of turtle versus toast, Donatello simply gave a nod at the question.

He'd expected that to please his brother, but instead Leonardo seemed torn. "In that case, see you in the dojo in fifteen minutes," the leader said, plastering on a smile that seemed a little forced before he hastily retreated from the room.

Donnie was still puzzling over the reaction a quarter of an hour later, as he meandered his way towards the living area on route to the dojo. Looking around as he descended into the space, he was momentarily startled at just how clean and tidy everything was.

The magazines were in a neat stack beside the television, and the old pizza boxes were missing entirely. Even the cushions, propped up against the ledge where they usually sat, looked freshly washed. In fact, a couple of them were causing a slow trickle of water to run towards the grill at the centre of the area. Donatello made a mental note not to sit down on them for the near future and hoped that he'd recall it when needed.

Continuing to the dojo, he found the rest of the family had already gathered and were awaiting his arrival. Michelangelo, kneeling in anticipation, beamed up at where Leonardo and Raphael were standing at the front of the class. The former had fixed his gaze straight ahead and was fighting discomfiture, while the latter was glaring at the ground with shoulders hunched in annoyance. Meanwhile Splinter paced behind them, his expression one of stern disapproval.

"Ah, s-sorry I'm late, Sensei." Donatello quickly apologised, moving as swiftly as he could to kneel beside Michelangelo.

Master Splinter stopped pacing, and as he turned to face the last of his sons to arrive, Donnie saw his father's eyes glittering with silent amusement. The look was all the turtle needed to relax. He was not in trouble, but it was plain to see who was.

"I am glad you are joining us, Donatello," Splinter stated sincerely, his face wrinkling into a smile.

Donnie nodded happily. "Thank you, Sensei."

"Now," Splinter continued, raising his voice as he addressed his children. "Before we begin. Raphael and Leonardo, I hope that you had plenty of time while cleaning the lair to consider the assignment I set you."

"Hai, Sensei," Leo stated, while Raph sullenly nodded.

"Good. Raphael first. Hajime!"

Donatello and Michelangelo both gazed on expectantly. What assignment had been set, Donnie wondered to himself. Perfect a complicated manoeuvre? Develop a new kata? But to his surprise, through gritted teeth his brother began to recite.

"My brother gets under my shell,

Even though he sometimes means well.

To punch in his face,

Was a… disgrace,

So, I'm sorry it rang like a bell."

"That was a limerick!" Leonardo protested, glancing questioningly towards Splinter for affirmation and getting raised eyebrows in return.

"Ah, I mean…" Leo hastily continued, "Arigatou, Raphael. Please accept my… _Haiku_."

He took a deep breath before reciting steadily.

"Raphael. With strength

you fight for what you believe.

Please, believe in me."

"That wasn't an apology!" Raph griped, glaring at Leo until he too caught Splinter's meaningful gaze. "But, thanks anyway," he muttered, mollified.

"Yours was barely an apology." Leonardo mumbled under his breath. "You were just sorry you got—"

He was cut off as Master Splinter stepped forward and sharply knocked a hand into the side of each turtle, sending their heads bashing together. Ignoring their mirrored protest as each quickly recoiled with a hand to the brow, while Donatello and Michelangelo both tried not to laugh, their Sensei launched straight into morning training.

"Michelangelo," he started, prompting the turtle in question to look up at him with a beaming grin. "You will pair with Raphael and attempt to knock Leonardo to the ground."

Donnie's earlier amusement faded into concern. If Mikey was sparring with Raph against Leo, then what was he doing? Why wasn't he to train with them?

As if reading his thoughts, Splinter immediately continued with, "Donatello. My son, you will come with me."

Getting back to his feet, Donatello heard the predictable question from Michelangelo once the two eldest turtles headed over to him.

"So, uh, what are we doing again?"

Not waiting for the answer, Donnie followed in growing confusion as he was led into Splinter's dimly lit sleeping chambers. Although, it wasn't just used for sleeping, he recalled as his eyes drifted to the neatly placed rug in the centre of the scantly furnished room. At each corner sat a holder for incense, although none were currently lit.

"You are still regularly experiencing seizures."

It was a statement rather than a question, but Donatello felt obliged to answer anyway. Yet it was with a degree of reluctance that he said, "Hai, Sensei."

Uncomfortably, he wondered whether his father thought the fact that he was still having fits was due to some weakness. That, and he was starting to get an inkling about what was coming next. He wasn't disappointed.

"Then sit," Splinter instructed, "and see if we can still your mind and body through meditation."

Awkwardly shuffling his feet, Donnie nevertheless felt obliged to speak up. "With all d-due respect, Sensei," he started. "M-meditation isn't going to help. The seizures are caused by electrical im-im-impulses within my brain misfiring due to the cranial injury I took. It's ph-ph-phys... physiol-logical."

Splinter listened patiently, his long fingers knitted together before himself, and for a few seconds Donatello felt hopeful that his father's agreeing nod meant that he had acknowledged the point.

"What have you learnt so far, of the circumstances which lead to you having a seizure?" his Sensei suddenly asked. "What precedes this… misfire of electrical impulse?"

"Uh," Donnie started, caught by surprise by the question. "Well, it's kind of random. But, um, I guess… it's more likely when I'm t-tired?" His mind went to what Leo had been saying earlier. "Or h-hungry."

"Is that all?"

Suddenly aware of the trap tightening around him, knowledge of it did little to help Donatello resist providing the answer he knew that Splinter was waiting for. "Or… stressed."

The satisfied look on his father's face made him feel slightly nauseated, as did the subsequent recommendation.

"For that, I would suggest meditation."

Donatello had always hated meditation, a sentiment that Raphael seemed to share. Of course Leonardo excelled at it, and who knew what went through Michelangelo's head while he sat there with a stupefied smile in a supposed introspective trance.

"But—" Donnie started, mentally scrambling for a good excuse and inwardly cursing how sluggish his brain seemed.

Splinter's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Sit."

It wasn't an invitation. Recognising the warning signs and having already seen punishment doled to his elder brothers, Donnie gave up his protestations and obediently dropped down onto the rug.

"Good. Now, close your eyes and breathe deeply."

With a heavy sigh, Donatello submitted to meditate.


	28. Chapter 27: Behind me

**Chapter 27: Behind me**

"So, uh, what are we doing again?" Michelangelo asked, glancing questioningly between his two brothers as Donatello headed off with Master Splinter into the adjoining room.

He had been listening! At least, he'd been listening until the bouncy words had started him wondering if Master Splinter had ever played any musical instruments. Which, of course, had led to the thought that being in a marching band would be awesome. But what instrument would he play?

Leonardo groaned softly at the familiar question, shaking his head, while Raphael took the more direct approach of reaching out to cuff his youngest brother across the back of the skull.

"Ouch!" Mikey protested, jolting him out of wondering how difficult it would be to march on his hands while clashing cymbals with his feet.

Raph glared at him. "Pay attention! It's you and me, versus Lame-onardo."

Leo's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't rise to the insult. Instead he walked over to stand a short distance away, ready to begin the training fight.

Giving the smallest bob of his head to indicate he was ready, Raphael had his sais drawn in the blink of an eye before Leonardo had even finished his more refined bow.

"You gonna bow to Shredder too, before battle?" Raph mocked, as he watchfully sidestepped.

"You know why we bow," Leo retorted, his blades giving the familiar _shing_ as he drew them. He kept his eyes locked against his aggressive brother, waiting for any hint of an attack.

The focus of his two eldest brothers on each other meant Michelangelo was only spared the occasional passing glance. He didn't know whether to be irritated about not being considered a meaningful participant of the battle, or relieved that he wasn't really expected to do anything.

Raphael, of course, was the first to tire of cautious circling and leap into an aggressive attack. Similarly, there was no way that Leonardo would fail to notice and evade the movement before lashing out with a blow of his own.

They ought to shake it up a bit, Mikey thought absently to himself as he dodged back to avoid being caught in the cross-fire. Leo ought to chuck a few throwing stars at Raph before he finished bowing, then Raph should pull a set of panpipes out from his belt and play a merry little tune while doing flying kicks. That would be new.

Spinning his nunchucks, Michelangelo waited for his opportunity to dive into the fray. This was a perfect time to practice looking behind while striking, he realised. Neither Leonardo or Raphael were paying him much attention, so he had plenty of time to get into the perfect position to leap in and swing while keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the wall beyond.

"Mikey!" Raph snapped, easily dodging the errant nunchuck without missing a beat. "You're on my team, numbskull!"

Oh, yeah. With a guilty giggle, Mikey shrugged his shoulders apologetically before quickly turning his attention to Leo. Brow furrowing in concentration as he locked onto staring at the tree behind his brother's left shoulder, he jumped forward with a swing that he was sure couldn't miss.

A look of confusion briefly crossed Leonardo's face as he easily arched his body backwards to avoid the nunchuck that flew well short of the optimal depth. He didn't hesitate to then spin into a high kick that caught Michelangelo a glancing blow to the side of the head, sending him to the floor.

"You're down, Mikey," Leo stated, as if his brother hadn't already realised.

Frowning into the carpet, Michelangelo lingered there for a moment as his brother hopped over him in pursuit of Raphael. Once the ongoing grudge battle had moved across the room, he got to his feet and headed out of the way to kneel thoughtfully and wait for the bout to conclude.

He still hadn't got the hang of looking behind his enemy, he thought disappointedly to himself. Normally, once he put his mind to what he was doing, Mikey found it extremely easy to learn new manoeuvres and techniques. But this time, even paying attention, he just couldn't seem to get past the fact that he kept missing his mark.

Perhaps his brothers had already learnt the technique, Michelangelo realised. Quickly, he turned his gaze to shrewdly scrutinise the ongoing battle, concentrating first on Raphael's gleaming green eyes and watching carefully to see where they were focused.

It was with slight disappointment that Mikey realised Raph's eyes were not fixed on something beyond Leo. Or, in fact, on any single point at all. Although generally focused in Leonardo's direction, they were moving constantly as they took in a stream of visual information from all around.

Disappointment evolved to relief, as Michelangelo realised that at least this meant he wasn't the only one who hadn't figured out the technique. As the fight continued with Raphael trying to land a double punch and Leonardo cartwheeling clear, the two moved round to give the waiting turtle a view of the other pair of eyes.

If there was any one of the four that had learned a new, complex technique then it would be Leo. He'd surely mastered it already, Mikey was certain. But, to his surprise, he saw his brother's intensive gaze was flicking rapidly as he took in every detail from Raph's movements to gauge and predict his actions, while simultaneously monitoring the rest of the room as well.

So, neither of them had figured it out, Michelangelo realised in growing confusion. But Sensei had mentioned that one of his brothers had been told already of the technique. Did that mean it had been Donatello?

Donnie wasn't training with them today, he'd gone off somewhere with Splinter. But maybe he could be asked about it later. Unless he got mad at him again. Mikey chewed his lip uncertainly.

"You're down, Raph!"

Michelangelo looked up at Leonardo's smug proclamation, to see Raphael had been successfully tripped and ended up flat on his shell.

"Lucky hit," he grumbled, rolling over and getting back to his feet.

Leo shook his head. "Luck had nothing to do with it. You had your leg too high when spinning round from the feint, and that meant-"

"Don't care," Raphael cut in, stomping over to stand in front of Michelangelo. "What the shell were you doing, Mikey? You were meant to be on my side! Not tryin' ta hit me and getting floored by Leo's first attack."

"Uh…"

"Wait, Raph."

Both the turtles turned, as Leonardo sheathed his blades and headed towards them. "Mikey," he started, "why were you looking at the tree when you were trying to hit me?"

"I was just doin' what Sensei suggested," Michelangelo explained, defensively, as his big brothers both gazed down at him. One with an expression of irritation, the other with bemusement.

"He suggested you stare at the tree?" Raphael replied, incredulously. "Mikey, once he tells you that time out is over, you can stop!"

Mikey scowled. "That's not what happened!"

"Cool it, Raph," Leo said, with the placating hand gesture that Mikey knew was more likely to infuriate his brother than have the intended effect. "Mikey, what happened? Why did Sensei tell you to stare at the tree?"

"He didn't tell me to stare at the tree!" Michelangelo protested, hotly. Why did his brothers never listen properly? "He told me to look behind the enemy!"

He saw his brothers share a brief glance of confusion with one another.

"Behind…the enemy?" Leonardo repeated, as if it would somehow make everything clearer.

"Yup." Mikey pouted stubbornly. He knew what Splinter had told him.

"That's stupid," Raph stated bluntly, "Who'd wanna look behind the enemy? You look straight at them, savouring the fear in their eyes as you gut them."

Leo's face rippled with repulsion. "That's abhorrent, Raph."

"So are you," Raph reflexively retorted, folding his arms.

Ignoring him, Leonardo turned back to Michelangelo. "Mikey, what did he actually say? When he told you to stare at the—look behind the enemy? What were his exact words?"

They didn't believe him, Mikey thought grumpily. Well, he'd show them. He remembered what Master Splinter had said perfectly.

"Look not at the enemy before you, but at those who stand behind," he stated, doing his best impression of their father's sage voice.

Leonardo sighed understandingly. "Ah. Sensei didn't mean that you should look behind the enemy. He meant that you should look behind yourself."

"I tried that!" Michelangelo protested. "I fell over!"

Raphael snorted with laughter. "He doesn't mean literally, you idiot."

Confusion deepened. "I've gotta fight a book?"

"That's literary," Leo clarified. "So, no. You just need to… Look, come here."

Grabbing Mikey's hand, he tugged him over to stand in the centre of the dojo. Pointing with a finger, he directed Raph where to stand before stepping up to face them both.

"Ok, so you and Raph are versus me," he started to explain.

"Like before?"

"Exactly. Now, look behind you."

Michelangelo turned, to see Raphael staring expectantly at him. Frowning in confusion, he turned back to Leonardo.

"I have to look at Raph?"

"No," Leonardo said, shaking his head, "you just have to know he's there. Behind you. On your team."

"What if he moves?"

Raph threw his hands up in frustration. "He's never gonna get it, Leo! Just tell him so we can get back to doing something that isn't completely pointless."

"He has to figure it out for himself, so he can properly understand," Leonardo protested.

"No, we have to stop wasting time," Raphael retorted, before turning to Michelangelo. "Sensei means that you're not fighting to hurt your enemy, you're fighting to protect your allies."

Mikey paused, considering that. "But, the enemy will still get hurt," he said, eventually.

"So what?" Raph replied, frowning. "They're the enemy!"

Leo shot him a look, before gazing over at his littlest brother sympathetically. "Yeah, Mikey. The enemy still gets hurt."

Frowning, Michelangelo asked, "How about we don't hurt anyone?"

"Well—"

Raphael cut in. "Don't be stupid, Mikey. You think _Shredder_ won't hurt people? The only way to stop him is to hurt him, and anyone on his side!"

"Raph!" Leonardo admonished. "Are you incapable of compassion? Yeah, there are times we hurt people, Mikey. But we don't hurt them because we want to. We hurt them because we have to."

"Speak for yourself," Raph grumbled. "Next time I see Tiger Claw, he's gonna hurt and I'm gonna enjoy it."

Michelangelo frowned uncertainly, glancing back and forth between his brothers. Even armed with the explanation of what Splinter had meant with his cryptic words, he still wasn't quite sure how it was supposed to help.

Nervousness filled the little turtle. On Saturday, they would be going out to face the enemy. He'd have to fight. But, would he be able to?


	29. Chapter 28: Preparation

**Chapter 28: Preparation**

A delectable aroma filled the room as Splinter poured the steaming water over the dehydrated meal. Considering some of the food he'd been forced to consume for sustenance over the past decade, the pot of instant ramen could be considered decadent. Yet, compared to the flavours of the lovingly prepared meals that Tang Shen had once made for him, he might as well have picked up a handful of sewer sludge.

Moving over to sit beside the improvised table within the lair's kitchen, Splinter curled his hands around the plastic coated, cardboard pot as he waited for the contents to cool enough to consume. A day had not yet gone by where he did not miss his beloved wife.

Over the years that had passed, the raw edges of pain had been eroded. Yet it still left a cavern of loneliness that he knew now would never be filled. Tang Shen had passed away, leaving him to walk without her at his side. But, even though she had been gone now for so many years, he still saw evidence of her everywhere.

A wistful smile settled on the old rat's face as he gazed down into his cooling meal. As a young man, he would have carelessly tossed aside the lids of his instant ramen pots, until the level of clutter in the room reached a height that demanded cleaning. It had been Tang Shen's look of disapproval when she had first stepped foot into his kitchen that had prompted the change to his ways, and since then the lid had always gone straight into the recycling.

Her stern expression was one he must have appropriated for his own use during their time together. After his life began anew beneath New York City, it seemed that he had used it on his sons throughout their childhood and teenage years. For now, as they approached the transition to young adults, he had begun to see it reflected between them as they used it upon one another.

The tragedy that once tainted his memories of Tang Shen had long since faded. Now, traces of the happiness he'd once felt were allowed to shine through. Like a day of showers and sunshine, such were his recollections of his late wife.

"Settle down!"

Splinter's ears twitched as he heard Leonardo's voice floating through from the living area, battling to get his brothers and friends to pay attention. The inflection of the words sparked a ripple of amusement in the old rat. It seemed that it wasn't just Tang Shen's mannerisms his sons had inherited, but his own as well.

In a way, it was comforting to think that, although he would die someday, he would exist beyond his own lifetime in the thoughts and actions of those he loved. Provided, of course, that they outlived him. That they might not had always been a cause of fear, but ever since Donatello's accident it plucked at the master with increasing regularity.

Splinter knew why Leonardo had called for silence. Though his sons thought their sensei oblivious to their comings and goings, he monitored them with greater care than they gave him credit for. They could not ignore the threat that Shredder had created to their home, nor the damage he was causing to the city. Something had to be done.

Evidently the words uttered by his eldest had worked, as the muddled chatter and distant hum of the television from the other room had fallen into silence. With his sensitive hearing, Splinter could hear quite clearly as the conversation between his sons and their friends unfolded.

"Our mission is two pronged." the leader was officiously explaining. "We are to halt Shredder in his attempts to unearth our sanctum, and we—"

"Sanctum? Really?"

Raphael's jibe was ignored as Leonardo pointedly continued. "AND, we are to prevent further contamination of the environment. This is a quest not only to strike out against our nemesis, but also to protect the planet for future generations!"

Splinter shook his head in amusement. Leonardo, ever the hero, was fond of such dramatic proclamations. Such valour and dedication to the battle for the greater good was to be commended, but there were times that it needed tempering.

There was a rustle of paperwork before Leonardo continued. "We have two targets. The first is to expose the group that are polluting the sewer network. The second is to take down the warehouse and safely get those chemicals away from Shredder."

"So, lets hit the warehouse tonight. Then on Saturday, they've got nothin' to pollute with." Raphael suggested.

"If we do that, we won't be able to expose what they're doing and the environmental agency will keep searching the sewers," Leonardo pointed out. "We need to deal with both simultaneously. They won't know we're coming, and their foot soldiers will be divided between the two locations."

Casey's confident voice carried easily. "Just leave one to Casey Jones!"

"By yourself?" Raphael pointed out, incredulously.

"You wanna be my backup?"

A snort of derision escaped Raph's nose. "You're the backup!"

"I know how we can deal with the polluters, but I'm gonna need some backup," April suddenly stated.

"I'll be your b-backup!"

Lifting the pot before himself, Splinter used chopsticks in his other hand to lift some of the noodles to his lips and cautiously test the temperature. Still hot, but not so much as to burn.

Easing the food around his mouth to cool it enough to safely swallow, the old rat continued to idly listen to his children and their friends as they discussed their plans. It was Raphael's brusque voice that now floated through.

"So, April and Donnie bring the polluters to light, while the rest of us take down the warehouse. Easy as pie."

"Pie?" Michelangelo's excited tone betrayed the fact that he'd clearly not been paying attention until the mention of food.

"It's not that simple. We need a plan, Raph. We can't just march in there unprepared. That's how things get wrong and people get, uh…"

"Hurt. Just say it, Leo."

Splinter's fingers tightened around his chopsticks and he allowed himself a moment of grief. Donatello seemed to have come to terms with and accepted what had happened. However, his brothers were still finding things hard to become accustomed to.

"Well, I have a plan!" April chipped in. "Donnie, we're gonna want some things from your lab."

"Sure April. Whatever you need."

"I have a plan too!"

Splinter could well imagine the sceptical looks the others were giving one another at Michelangelo's proclamation. Though it wasn't worn upon his face, he too harboured a degree of incredulity. His youngest son was many things, and talented in his own areas, but was possessing of a mind that worked in ways unfathomable.

There was reluctance in Leonardo's voice as he spoke, but nevertheless he encouraged the contribution. "All right. Let's hear it, Mikey."

"Well, it's gonna need Casey as backup…"

"Dude! I'm not the backup!"

Splinter chuckled as he ate. Teenagers; so unintentionally hilarious to those who had navigated that awkward age and now looked back with the wisdom and experience afforded.

"See, I was thinking about what you guys said before…" Michelangelo continued, enthusiasm in his voice.

"Mikey was thinking?" Raphael retorted. "What's next? Bebop grows wings?"

"That would be sick!"

"Casey, Raph, hush!"

Leonardo was trying to wrest the discussion under control, with limited success. Perhaps he needed to be taught a few more techniques for that purpose, Splinter thought to himself as he chewed and swallowed another mouthful of his meal. Then again, as their sensei he had demonstrated how to take command time and again within the dojo. If his eldest son was not paying attention to anything beyond the martial arts, that was his own difficulty to overcome.

Finishing his meal, Splinter stood and headed over to rinse out the container before depositing it in the pile of recyclable material. Then his chopsticks were washed with greater care and placed within a pocket to be taken back to his room. It kept them safe from the mistreatment that utensils left within the kitchen frequently suffered.

Putting the kettle back onto the stove, Splinter began to heat the water in preparation for taking it back to his chamber for making himself some tea. As he waited for it to return to the boil, he pushed the curtain aside so he could silently watch his sons and their human friends.

Only April, sitting facing in the right direction and gifted with the telepathic gifts of her unusual heritage, noticed his presence. She gave him a brief glance and smile, before leaning back over the map that had been unrolled over the floor.

They were engrossed in planning their assault against Shredder, to stop him from filling the sewers with dangerous chemicals in his obsessive efforts to find them and put an end to the Hamato clan forever. They had come so far from the early days of freedom, when they would have leapt straight into the fray with no preparation beyond the training he had bestowed upon them.

Every success, every setback, preceded an endless stream of changes as the teenagers continued their journey through life. They might not see how much they had been transformed by their experiences, but Splinter certainly did.

Leonardo, gifted with both talent and the drive for excellence, had found the overconfidence of his earliest days subdued by the experience of failure. Robbed of naivety, instead he had learned caution. Although not yet honed to perfection, he walked steadily along the difficult path of leadership; the task of getting the best from his team and supporting his brothers through their struggles.

It was made no easier by Raphael, Splinter thought with a wry smile. Yet in challenging his brother, it strengthened them both. It forced them to have confidence in their own decisions, yet also ensured that they stopped to consider the alternative. For Raphael, he was gifted in battle but found the fight against his own impatience difficult. Yet, more and more, he was able to triumph.

Splinter had seen it in the way that his son had been helping Donatello with his recovery. Knowing when to act and when to wait was a tricky skill that could only be honed by experience. For Donatello, it was also necessary for him to regain a new familiarity with the differences he faced. There was fear in facing the unknown, made more terrible when the unknown was yourself.

Yet if that fear was terrible, then there was not the word to describe the dread of harm befalling someone you adore. Michelangelo's heart was filled with love for his friends and family, and the immobilising terror of losing them had threatened to overwhelm him. However, strengthened by the support of those he cared for, that same love was also a weapon deadlier than any foe could wield.

"That's a great idea, Mikey," Leonardo was saying, almost managing to mask the surprise in his voice.

"You know it!"

"While we're d-d-dis…d-discussing ideas," Donatello started, stumbling slightly over the longer words with his now all too familiar stutter. He pushed a pad of paper onto the growing pile in the midst of the huddle. "I had some thoughts for an i-i-inven-vention."

Splinter saw the other three turtles share a glance amongst themselves. His heart warmed at the surprise but also the happiness that crossed silently between them. Ever since Donatello had been young, he had provided a constant stream of inventions for his family. Some more successful than others. Yet it was something that had seemed to stop since he had been so traumatically injured. To see it returning, that was something to celebrate.

Donatello, frowning at the scribbles on the paper, missed the look that had passed above his head. "Ah, it's a bit messy…"

"It's great, Donnie," Leonardo said, encouragingly. "So, what does it do?"

"Well…"

The whistle of the kettle brought Splinter's attention back into the kitchen. Taking the pot from the heat, he fetched the teapot from the cupboard and transferred the hot water from one to the other. The braided bamboo handle was beginning to fray from use, it was something he would need to replace soon.

With the teapot in hand, the turtles' sensei pushed his way out of the kitchen and started quietly padding his way back towards the privacy of his own room beside the dojo.

"—to the t-phones," he heard Donatello concluding. "B-but I'll need your help to make it, April. And…yours too, Mikey."

Michelangelo, initially surprised, quickly blossomed with happiness. "Me? You want me to help?"

With a simple nod from Donatello, there followed a smile that passed between the two of them with an unspoken layer of communication. What it related to was something beyond Splinter's awareness. An apology, a reconciliation? Whatever it was, his two youngest sons bumped fists together before turning back to the paperwork.

"Ok, so, we have a plan," Leonardo summarised. "We've got until Saturday to get everything ready."

As the leader started to dole out tasks and jobs that needed to be completed, Splinter silently took his leave to return to the sanctity of his own room and prepare the green tea.

Once, he had been so worried about his sons leaving the sewers. So frightened for their safety, in the dangerous world above ground where they were not so easily protected from harm. It was not unjustified, as they had faced dangers he had expected, as well as many that he had not.

They had grown from their experiences and overcome the trials they had faced. No longer did he have so many concerns for their safety. No longer did he listen so anxiously for their safe return. They were mature young adults now, and he could be confident that they—

A crash from the living area, followed by the unmistakable roar from Raphael and giggle from Michelangelo cut the sensei's thoughts off in their tracks.

Well, perhaps they were not quite grown up yet, he admitted to himself with a smile.


	30. Chapter 29: Infiltration

**Chapter 29: Infiltration**

Cloaked by the darkness of night, the three turtles appeared to be nothing more than shadows as they leapt between the buildings to reach the roof of an apartment overlooking the warehouse. The night was cool and crisp, which Raphael found a little disappointing. It felt like there ought to be a gathering storm, ready to unleash wrath upon the streets of New York.

Well, the turtle thought with a smirk, _Raph_ would just have to be unleashed upon their enemies instead. They had a beatdown coming to them after the damage they'd been doing to the environment during their irresponsible attempts to locate the lair. Not just that, but he owed them some serious injuries on Donnie's behalf.

When the inevitable fight broke out, would their enemies notice that Donatello was missing? Raphael felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten as he recalled Tiger Claw's mocking voice, from the last time his brother had joined them on the battlefield and suffered a seizure at the most unfortunate moment. If any of Shredder's mutant henchmen were there, they would notice. He was sure of it.

Still, as Leo had highlighted, it could work to their advantage that the enemies would believe Donnie was no longer a participant in the missions. Not only would it goad them to overconfidence, but it also meant they wouldn't realise the assignment that their brother was on with April.

Ignoring the tiny niggle of worry for the safety of his brother and his friend, Raphael forced himself to believe in them. April had proved herself time and again to be a strong and resourceful young woman, with those talents being polished by her training as a kunoichi. Although slower and weaker than he'd once been, Donatello was still very capable and would excel at what their task required.

Stepping forward to peruse their target, Raph was immediately aware that unlike some of the buildings they had frequented recently, this one was a modern installation in good repair. The cladding on the external walls was smooth and lacking in handholds, while the majority of the windows were protected with heavy bars that were bolted securely into place.

A grim smile settled upon Raphael's lips. Shredder was obviously serious about this one, which meant that it must be important.

Movement in the alleyway below manifested into two darkly clad ninjas patrolling the outside of the building, their heads moving from side to side as they kept a close watch on the vicinity. The glow of their eyes gave them away as being some of the robotic troops.

The turtles crouched in silence for several minutes, surveying their target in detail and monitoring the route of the patrol. Then, at the edge of his awareness, Raph saw Leo making a tiny gesture with one hand towards the corner of the building.

Flicking his eyes in that direction, he saw it too. The slight shine of moonlight as it reflected on the lens of a camera. Most likely a closed-circuit surveillance system, not something they particularly wanted to get captured on.

Easing a shuriken into one hand, Raphael gave the leader a questioning look. He saw Leonardo's eyes flick towards the gleaming weapon, before he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Raising one hand, his brother started to quickly flick through several of the gestures he'd come up with as a silent combat language.

Raph's expression became incredulous. He was picking up maybe the odd concept or two, something about moving around the back, then… drinking a beer and going fishing? Nope, that couldn't be right. Besides, he thought with growing scepticism, if Leo thought that Mikey was getting any of this then he was even more deluded than usual.

A quick glance over at Michelangelo revealed what he'd already known. His baby brother was staring vacantly over at a garish billboard adorned with an oversized rabbit on the building across the block. He was miles away, off on some crazy adventure within the incomprehensible world of his imagination.

Raphael saw Leonardo's eyes flick that way too, before narrowing slightly as he frowned. Reaching carefully into his belt to withdraw his t-phone, the leader started to type out a message, taking care to keep everything noiseless.

An expression of disbelief settled upon Raph's face. Leo couldn't be seriously intending to text them the instructions for his plan to infiltrate the building! Besides, chances were slim that Mikey had remembered to silence his phone.

For that matter, Raph realised in alarm that he wasn't entirely sure his own t-phone was silenced. Not about to let Leo cause him the humiliation of blowing their cover, he quickly leant forward to speak.

"Leo, just say it!" he hissed. "It's not like they can hear us all the way up here."

Down behind the building, there was a sudden bleep as both robotic Foot soldiers immediately turned in their direction with the lights of their eerie red eyes glowing.

"Or maybe they can…"

"Move!"

But before they could follow the whispered instruction, there was the squeaking sound of a bicycle pulling up in front of the building. The two Foot-bots immediately turned their attention in that direction and hurried to positions where they could observe the arrival.

Raphael was unapologetic as Leonardo threw him a glare before silently gesturing for the two of them to follow him to a better vantage point. From there, they gazed down at the boy climbing off the bike and heading up to the door of the warehouse with a pile of familiar boxes stacked in his arms.

Suddenly focused on what was going on, Michelangelo leaned forward eagerly to get a closer look at what was happening. Grabbing the back of his brother's belt, Raphael forced him back down behind the low barrier before anyone could spot them.

The noise of the youth rapping on the door floated up to them. It took several determined attempts and the boxes almost ending up tipped onto the floor before the door was finally answered.

"Yo! I got a delivery of pizza here!"

Although he was clearly doing his best to disguise it, the voice was unmistakable for the turtles on the rooftop. Crossing his fingers that it was a junior Foot soldier that had been sent to answer rather than one of the unreceptive Foot-bots or a mutant that might stand a chance of recognising their friend, Raph watched closely as Casey offered the boxes to the individual hidden behind the open door.

The answer given was muffled, but could be guessed by the follow-up.

"It's prepaid, dude. Wait, there was a message here somewhere… Oh, here! So… 'From Sensei Judd. Keep up the good work.'"

The name was the one that Raphael and Donatello had seen on the door of the office at the training facility they'd infiltrated. Not so senior as to seem dubious, and it was an individual they knew had been involved with the new recruits. Hopefully, it would add credibility to the delivery without arousing suspicion.

There was a slight shift in posture from Leonardo, as he carefully readied himself to leap down to help Casey out if things didn't go to plan. Taking the cue from his brother, Raphael also tensed his muscles in anticipation. Michelangelo, with his usual combination of optimism and obliviousness, simply beamed.

The response from behind the door was impossible to hear, but as the boxes were taken off Casey and the door promptly slammed in his face, it became apparent that their enemies had taken the bait. Raph grinned, and saw his expression echoed by his brothers.

With a cheerful whistle, their human friend sauntered back to the waiting bicycle. He paused at the curb and swept a quick glance around the rooftops as if he were looking for something. Rolling his eyes, Raphael crouched slightly. No-way was he going to let Casey locate him. Having his untrained friend finding him once had been humiliating enough, he was not going to facilitate a repeat performance.

Leonardo grabbed Michelangelo's arm to still it before he could wave, and after another few moments Casey had headed off into the night to rendezvous with the others.

The hand gesture to follow couldn't be misunderstood, and Raph brought up the rear as his two brothers set off to cross the rooftops and move around to investigate the other sides of the warehouse. First, they had to nullify the patrol and infiltrate the building. Then, find a way to destroy it.

Their eventual entrance was through a small, unbarred side window that lead into the toilet facilities, an area not monitored by the security cameras. Unlike the turtles, who had become accustomed over many years to their aromatic dwelling in the sewers, the Foot soldiers were less acclimatised to offensive odours. One of them had evidently opened the window that led into the bathrooms for some fresh air.

With only two patrolling Foot-bots to dispatch, Raph easily broke one while Leo sliced the other into pieces. Leaving the crumpled robots in the shadow of the building, the leader entered the window first. He was followed by Mikey, who leapt through the narrow opening with ease.

Not about to get left behind, Raphael quickly hopped up to follow his brothers. Without the grace of Leonardo or the athleticism of Michelangelo, he simply dove through with arms outstretched and hoped for an easy landing on the far side.

The window fortunately opened into the main part of the tiled room. A regimented row of sinks stood to one side, and three cubicle toilets to the other. The far wall was filled with the reflective surface of a large mirror and on a small table by the door sat a faded bowl of potpourri.

Bracing himself to roll smoothly into the landing and end up back on his feet, the manoeuvre was brought to a grating halt as Raph's shell jammed on the window frame. Managing to muffle a squawk of surprise, instead the turtle quickly started to squirm as he tried to get the rest of himself into the building.

"Need some help there, Raphie?" Mikey giggled, reaching out to grab hold of Raph's hands.

Glaring at his brother, Raphael didn't bother answering and instead just tightened the muscles in his arms as he worked with Michelangelo to try and drag himself free. For a few moments, he just seemed to jam tighter in the gap, then with sudden give the frame bowed just enough to allow him to tumble the rest of the way into the room.

It was of minor consolation that in doing so he collided with his irritating younger brother and sent Mikey stumbling onto his shell.

Michelangelo was still chuckling to himself about Raphael getting stuck as the two floored turtles climbed back to their feet. Raising one arm in a threatening gesture soon put a stop to the noise and caused the little brother to reflexively raise his hands in defence.

Glaring at them both, Leonardo put a finger to his lips. However, it wasn't the motion that silenced them so much as the creaking thud of a door opening outside the washroom, as someone headed in their direction.

Leo's gesture to hide was unnecessary, as all turtles reacted instantly to dive for cover. But, with the small room overshadowed by the huge mirror, the only concealment was within the cramped cubicles.

Since it was safe to assume the approaching individual would want one of them, Raph found himself crowded into a stall with Leo, while Mikey took the one beside them. While their younger brother managed to get the door closed and locked into place easily, the two that shared found it more difficult.

A brief scuffle later and Raphael found himself pushed into taking a seat, while Leonardo bestrode him and arched his back, awkwardly trying to tuck his shell forward as much as possible so he could get the door shut in the narrow gap behind himself. Rolling his eyes, Raph roughly kicked the cubicle closed with one foot then kept both feet pressed up against the door, before reaching past his brother to engage the lock.

It was just in the nick of time, as their unwanted company entered the area moments later. If the Foot soldier noticed that two of the cubicles were already taken, they made no mention of it. There was just the sound of a stifled yawn as the youthful individual headed into the remaining stall.

Hopefully the person wouldn't think to look down underneath the gap at the bottom of the partitioning walls or notice the odd shadows they cast, Raphael thought silently to himself. He glanced down to Leonardo's feet, resting on the tiles to either side of his knees.

Following the look, his brother quickly realised the same concern. Abruptly, Leo went from simply straddling his brother to sitting down on Raph's lap. Narrowly avoiding knocking his knee against the narrow waste container beside the bowl of the toilet, he tucked his feet up out of easy view.

"Comfy there?" Raph snarked under his breath, which immediately earned him a hand clapped over his mouth while Leo used his other to gesture furiously for quiet.

Another minute passed in uncomfortable silence, before there was the merciful sound of a toilet flushing and the far stall door opening. The sleepy Foot soldier yawned again when heading over to turn on the taps for hand washing. Mercifully they didn't stop to dry and just headed straight out, allowing the hiding turtles to relax.

Extracting themselves from the cubicle was almost as cumbersome as entering it, but at length the brothers managed. By the time Raphael emerged, Michelangelo was already over at the sinks washing his hands. Glancing over his shoulder towards them, the youngest turtle then headed over to the hand dryer.

"What are you doing?!" Leonardo quickly hissed, intercepting him.

Mikey blinked in surprise. "Washing my hands, brah. After you flush, you gotta wash!"

"You used the toilet?! Mikey," Leo fumed, "we're meant to be infiltrating stealthily!"

"Well, what if we don't get another chance and I gotta go?"

"Besides, this is the ladies' bathroom," Raph pointed out, prompting both his brothers to suddenly look at him in surprise.

How could they not have noticed? The potpourri, the lack of urinals, the sanitary bins? Raphael responded to his brothers with a look that mingled between quizzical and amused.

Leonardo, horrified, raised clenched hands to his chin. "We're in the _ladies'_ bathroom?! We shouldn't be here!"

A snort of derisive laughter escaped before Raphael could silence it. "You're worried about being in the _ladies' bathroom_ while we're breaking into _Shredder's_ _storehouse_?"

He enjoyed the brief flush of red that brought to his brother's face, before it was replaced with a sullen glare. "Let's just get on with it. Come on."

Pushing towards the exit, Leo paused to listen at the door for an extended period, before carefully opening it and sliding through. He opened the next with even more caution, peering out into the space beyond the bathroom.

From where he was standing, Raph couldn't see what lay past his brothers. However, he trusted to the leader as he gestured for the two of them to follow him. Letting Mikey go first, Raph brought up the rear as the three of them quickly crossed what seemed to be a lobby.

The first door they reached had a window, giving a clear view to what seemed to be a break area for the foot soldiers. Peering in, Raphael could see eight of them in there, sprawled out on the various easy chairs as they dozed. The boxes of pizza had been gleefully attacked, with just a few slices remaining.

"Looks like your plan actually worked," Raph commented to his youngest brother. As had been planned, lacing the pizzas with narcotics meant less human foes to fight. Although, from Raph's point of view, any reduction of combat was a bit of a disappointment.

Michelangelo grinned. "I have the best plans, brah!"

Raphael didn't deign to provide a response and instead just moved up to follow Leonardo as he prowled around the foyer to the next door. This one had no glass, just a label designating it as 'Private'. Therefore, it was of obvious interest to infiltrating ninjas.

Stepping past a box that seemed to be haphazardly filled with facemasks, Raph took up a position on one side of the doorframe as the leader took the other. Easing the door open, Leo leant forward to peer into the area beyond for a few seconds before darting swiftly through the opening into the welcome embrace of shadows beyond.

Raphael followed, ending his movement crouched behind a movable metal rack that was filled with large plastic containers; the same as the ones they'd seen the Foot soldiers using to syphon off the chemicals at the paint factory. A quick glance around it showed that the expansive area was full of the same.

"It stinks in here," Mikey mumbled, from behind Raph's shoulder.

The turtle took a slow breath. There was a cloying aroma hanging in the air, that seemed to stick in his nose and throat, making breathing a little bit of an more effort than normal. But, in comparison to ripe days living in the sewers, it wasn't that unpleasant.

Raph scoffed at his brother. "You're such a whiner."

"Am not!"

Leonardo turned around to scowl at them. "Seriously? We are ninja! We are infiltrating an enemy base. There could be any number of enemies here, just waiting for us to make a wrong move. We move in the shadows, and in silence. So, shut up before we're heard!"

A sudden series of beeps drew the attention of all three of them to the Foot-bot, as it rounded the corner to stare straight at them with red eyes illuminated. Immediately, it had weapons drawn and was ready to fight.

"I think it heard you, brah," Mikey helpfully pointed out.

"Oh, that's so unfair," Leo muttered, hastily drawing his blades.


	31. Chapter 30: Provocation

Chapter 30: Provocation

If there was one thing that the brush with death had taught Donatello, it was to really appreciate the simple pleasures that life provided. Once upon a time, hanging out with April would have been a strenuous exercise of presenting himself as what he perceived she wanted to see, along with the delicate balance of trying to act within the norms of a society he'd only ever seen from the outskirts.

Sure, there might still be elements of those concerns that ticked away within him, but, with his mind no longer running at the same high speed, it was easier just to ignore them so he could enjoy the here and now. It was both odd and disconcerting, but Donnie was finally starting to appreciate the simplicity of Mikey's world.

The night was cloudless, enabling the moonlight to beam down onto the city streets. Despite the nocturnal desaturation, April's vivid hair still shone out in the night like the welcoming flicker of a campfire. As she turned towards him with a smile, Donatello felt a rush of warmth.

"You all set, D?" she asked, setting down the rucksack she'd been carrying.

Raising his right hand, Donnie carefully closed and opened his fist. The motorised exoskeleton that fitted along his arm was working perfectly. While it didn't give back everything he'd lost, it added mechanical strength to the weakened and unresponsive muscles, providing a rigidity that constrained any wild swings as he tried to move.

"It's w-working perfectly," he said, beaming back at her.

April was watching, her excitement tempered by concern. "What about the sensors? Are you getting readings?"

A glance to the modified smart watch on his other wrist, and the application on his t-phone that was being fed data from the various sensors, told him what he already knew. "N-nothing of concern."

Relaxing, April nodded happily. "Great. Well, keep an eye on it. Mikey and I are both connected in too, but I'm not sure we've got the algorithms quite right yet. I erred on the side of caution, so…"

"It'll be fine," Donatello stated, giving her an encouraging smile. He felt better than he had for ages and was confident that nothing could go wrong this evening. His brothers and Casey could easily handle a warehouse, while he and April dealt with the rest.

"How about you?" the turtle continued, nudging the conversation away from himself. "Are you r-ready to go?"

She nodded. "Yep. Just waiting for… Ah, here they are."

The two of them quickly ducked down behind the line of boxes they'd positioned to create a strategic barrier across the alleyway. They were across the street from where the truck drew to a halt by the side of the road. Any doubt about who and what it contained was removed, as two of the young Foot soldiers climbed down from the cab.

"Ok, I'm going to call it in," April whispered, pulling out a business card from her pocket and moving further back into the alleyway where her voice wouldn't carry.

Donnie watched her go for a few moments, before recalling that he had his own job to do. Sidling to a better position, he straightened just enough to peer over the edge of the boxes and check what was happening on the far side of the road.

The youths had walked around to the rear of the unbranded trailer and lowered the back. As the turtle watched, they began to unload a series of heavy duty plastic containers. They were of the same sort that the Foot had been filling with stolen chemicals back at the paint factory.

Ducking down behind the makeshift barrier, Donatello set his t-phone down onto the ground then reached into the bag. From there, he retrieved a tangle of wires and the small device that swung from the end of them. Carefully sliding his bo-staff out from his shoulder strap, he fixed the small box to the end of it and wound the cable securely around the wood.

Plugging the trailing wires into the t-phone, he pressed his tongue against his lip in nervous expectation as he waited for the devices to speak to one another. It took just long enough for him to begin worrying that it wasn't working, but before he could start jiggling the cables the screen spontaneously flickered into life.

A grin spread across the turtle's face, as the video feed from the camera mounted on his staff streamed through to his phone. Tapping the button to start recording, he used the controls to capture footage that could be used as evidence of just what the Foot were up to.

He heard the approaching footsteps, but recognised them as April's return. The tap she gave him on the arm prompted him to look away from filming and regard her.

"Casey's lost," she whispered. "He's one block too far over. I'm gonna go get him."

Should he go with her? Would he be able to keep up? Before Donatello could decide, she'd already turned and disappeared off into the night. April was a competent kunoichi now, he reasoned as he tried to still his desire to protect her. She could handle herself, and he needed to make sure that good footage was being captured of the unravelling event.

With the mounted camera offering a greater zoom and better night visibility than the standard cameras on the t-phones, Donnie could get a detailed recording of each of the young Foot soldiers in turn. They had removed the fully covering dark hoods in favour of filtering masks that enclosed their noses and mouths, to protect against the chemical fumes.

After getting the clearest pictures of their faces that he could manage, Donatello spent a few moments recording the details of the truck cab they had been driving. Of course, it had no visible plates. Finally, he zoomed back out to take in the whole scene, as the foot clan members opened the containers and started to pour the contents into the storm drains.

A sick feeling started to grow in Donnie's stomach. They were just wantonly polluting the environment, all because the mad man they served was so determined to locate the turtles' lair. Didn't the youths care about the world they lived in?

The chemicals might be directed to the sewers, but from there they could make it to the rivers and the sea. The plants, the fish, then the birds and animals that ate the fish; all of them would suffer. It could even make its way into the fresh water system, poisoning the very people of New York.

Donatello's fingers clenched around his staff, as he tried to convince himself not to do something reckless. So much of the chemical had been dumped already, logically this truck load was just another drop in the ocean.

Donnie knew his orders. As per usual, Leo had gone over them several times with the entire group to make sure everyone, including Mikey, knew what they were doing. For Donatello, his mission was simply to get the clear footage of the chemicals being dumped, so they could be provided to the authorities for the search of the sewers to be called off as soon as possible.

It had been several minutes since April had made the call to a contact she'd made at the environment agency. No-one had arrived, no sirens could be heard. Help wasn't coming any time soon, of that Donnie was certain. The Foot would have time to dump the whole truck load of chemicals and likely be gone before anyone arrived. Then what would happen? They'd get away with it.

He could stop them. There were only two of them. They were young and inexperienced. He might not have the strength he once did, but he'd trained his whole life in martial arts. He could stop them from causing such devastation to the environment, and delay them long enough for help to arrive.

His face setting into a line of determination, Donatello stopped the recording. He'd gotten enough footage to incriminate the Foot and there was no good reason to record himself. Lowering his bo-staff, he pulled off the camera and dropped it down onto the ground. Getting back to his feet, he tried to ignore the pounding of his heart as he stepped around the boxes and entered a ready stance for battle.

A seed of doubt threatened to sprout within his mind. This would be a fight, a real fight. He may have been present during a battle, but he'd not faced a foe himself since before his accident. In the dojo, any of his brothers could wipe the floor with him. He suspected that even April or Casey could have him on the ground in a matter of seconds. Did he really want to do this?

The faint scent of the chemicals drifted over to where he stood indecisively in the shadows. If he didn't do something, all that toxicity would go into the sewers. Polluting them and causing damage that might never be fully repaired. The pressure to act seemed to be building, an urgency he couldn't control spreading like wildfire through his body.

Abruptly, Donnie kicked off from the ground and dashed forward as he prepared to start the fight with a strike of surprise. He would take one of them down before they even realised he was there.

Behind the boxes, still sitting on the ground, Donatello's t-phone buzzed into life. It was the new application he'd written with April, the one that was receiving the transmitted information from the sensors built into the exoskeleton. His pulse, temperature and movements were all being tracked, as was the electrodermal activity of his skin.

Put together, and with a growing catalogue of data to draw upon, the algorithm they'd designed was getting increasingly good at spotting the small changes that happened in the build up to the turtle having a seizure. Using the available information, the application flicked from a steady green to the warning state of yellow.

Donnie was close, so close, to succeeding in nailing the first hit against the Foot soldier before she noticed he was there. But, at the very last moment, she twisted her body out of the way to avoid the strike from causing anything more than a slight bruise to one shoulder.

With a gasp of surprise, her training kicked in and she spun lithely round to dodge the unexpected foe. Into her hands snapped twin sickles that formed a pair of kama. Spinning again and keeping herself low to avoid becoming a target, she inexpertly slashed the curved blades towards the turtle.

Hissing a curse through his teeth, Donatello immediately stepped into a wide swing to dodge her blow and strike towards her companion. He'd hoped to at least knock the other enemy to the ground before he could get involved in the battle. But the element of surprise was gone, and the other foot soldier had already dropped the bottle he'd been holding in favour of drawing his flail.

Not good, Donnie realised in dismay as his target easily dodged the blow. The pole of the chigiriki he now faced wasn't far off the reach of his bo staff, while the chain attached to one end terminated in a wickedly spiked weight. A hit from that would gouge a chunk from his shell, and he didn't want to consider what it would do to a more delicate area.

Perhaps this hadn't been such a great idea after all, the turtle thought worriedly as he tried to watch both the enemies simultaneously. His skin prickled with the cold rush of fear and he could feel the tension building throughout his body as he fought to not give in to terror.

Behind the boxes, the t-phone buzzed warningly as the screen turned amber.

Stepping back, Donatello bought himself a moment to think and the room to defend himself. He realised too late that he'd just granted his enemy the same space, and the male Foot soldier had taken full advantage by drawing back to swing the chigiriki in an arcing strike, while the female had started to circle around to flank him.

Just in the nick of time, Donnie managed to get his bo staff in position to entangle the chain of the flail. He ducked beneath the weight, as it swung around the pole and narrowly missed his head. The strength of the blow surprised him, and the force of it was pressing against his weakened right side.

He felt his muscles fail against the attack, but the exoskeleton held his jellied limb and provided the rigidity that otherwise wouldn't be there. Almost laughing with sudden glee at the success of the invention, Donatello quickly used it to his advantage.

Grabbing the tangled weight of the flail with his left hand, to prevent his foe from escaping without releasing the chigiriki first, Donnie spun into a sudden roundhouse kick, attempting to kick out the feet of both his opponents.

It wasn't the neatest effort, but he felt his blow connect. Both the young Foot soldiers stumbled, but more importantly the foe in front of him lost his grip on the chigiriki, allowing Donatello to flick it away with a quick snap of his bo-staff. Flying a short distance, the flail rolled beneath the truck, out of easy reach.

He'd managed to disarm his opponent. He was doing it; he was fighting, and winning. The turtle could feel his heart hammering within his ribcage and his breathing had quickened from both excitement and exertion. Elation at his unexpected success was sending a heady buzz from his fingertips to his toes.

The Foot soldiers had scrambled back to their feet and were readying to strike again, now armed only with the two kama and a hastily drawn knife. Donatello's body trembled from the effort of battle and he could feel his head pounding with the struggle of having to focus on the fight. But he couldn't fall now. He was so close to winning, he had to finish this!

But, without warning, the metallic catches on his exoskeleton popped open. He watched helplessly as the mechanical invention that had been supporting his weakened right arm dropped uselessly onto the ground with a clatter.

In the alleyway, the t-phone screen glared red.


	32. Chapter 31: Obstruction

**Chapter 31: Obstruction**

Michelangelo liked to consider himself resilient, especially where smells were concerned. After all, he'd spent what felt like his entire life living in the sewer, a place not really known for a pleasant aroma. Not only that, but amongst his brothers it was widely agreed that his room smelt the worst, as did his feet.

So, when faced with the requirement to tolerate a nasty stench, Mikey would have put himself at the top of the list of turtles who could cope. But from the moment he'd followed Raph and Leo in through the doorway marked private, it felt like the stink was slapping him across the face with every breath he took and stuffing socks into his lungs instead of air.

It only got worse as the three of them launched into battle against the foot-bot that had overheard Leonardo's rant about needing to stay quiet. One robot was hardly a challenge for the three ninjas. But, by the time they'd quietly hacked it into pieces, Michelangelo was experiencing a growing sensation of wrongness throughout his body.

"Guys…" he whimpered, "I don't feel so great."

Both of his brothers turned to face him, one wearing a look of quiet concern and the other a regard of disdain.

"Don't tell me you're worried about hitting Foot-bots now?"

"Raph!" Leo chided, before turning to Mikey. "Are you ok?"

Mikey pursed his lips together. His guts felt like a coil of snakes slithering around, and there was an unsettling tingle in his extremities. It felt like that time when he'd accidentally melted one of Raph's action figures into a pizza, and then eaten it. The result had been the closest he'd ever come toward regretting a meal.

Slowly, he shook his head, prompting Leonardo to sigh and Raphael's expression to deepen.

"Seriously, Mike? Don't be such a yellow-belly!"

With a pout, the turtle hunched his shoulders defensively. It wasn't fear! It didn't feel at all like when he was scared. At least, he'd thought it didn't. But, now that Michelangelo considered it, the weak knees and fluttering stomach might not be that different after all. Was he so scared that it was making him sick?

The worry must have shown on his face, as Leo reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. "Hey, it's fine, Mikey. How about you go and secure the sleeping foot soldiers? Just tie them up, no need to hurt them. We don't want them to wake up and join the party. Raph and I can handle things here."

He saw Raphael fold his arms huffily, with the clear attitude that of course they could handle things, but he didn't think they ought to. Tearing his eyes from his stroppy brother, Michelangelo instead stared into Leonardo's patient gaze for a few seconds before turning uncomfortably away.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'll do that." He forced a beam onto his face as he raised it again and jerked a thumb towards his chest. "Leave it to me, brah!"

Leo nodded, then turned back to focusing on the mission. Stepping out from the rack they were hidden behind, he dashed across to the next point of cover. Raph moved to follow, and for a split-second Mikey thought he was about to receive a smack across the back of his head as his brother passed by. But, at the last moment, the move instead became a rough yet oddly affectionate shove towards the doorway through which they'd entered.

Taking the hint, Michelangelo left his big brothers and nimbly made his way back through the doorway into the foyer. As the door closed, he stepped back and knocked his foot against a box of masks that had been left right where he wanted to stand.

With a grimace, the turtle quickly looked around to see if anyone had been disturbed by the scuffling thud and was coming to investigate. The moment stretched into seconds, which then extended towards a minute, before he finally relaxed. It seemed like no one had heard anything.

Taking a few slow breaths of the fresher air beyond the storeroom of chemicals, Mikey closed his eyes and allowed himself a short time to savour the unencumbered breathing. Wiggling his fingers and toes, he found they were back to feeling normal, while his stomach slowly seemed to settle back down to the comfortingly familiar gurgle of teenage hunger.

It hadn't been caused by fear, the turtle thought sullenly. If it had been fear, surely the symptoms wouldn't have worn off so quickly. He paused uncertainly. Or would they? What would wear off quicker? Stinky sickness, or fear sickness? Donnie would know. But he wasn't here right now, he was off doing his own part of the mission with April.

Michelangelo wandered over towards the glass panelled door that gave a view of the snoozing Foot-soldiers in the room beyond. They had barely moved from when he'd seen them before, sprawled out wherever they could find space on the gathered chairs and sofas within their break area.

They had self-dosed themselves to slumber, after consuming the drug laced pizzas that the turtles had provided. It had been an inspired idea, Mikey thought proudly. Less enemies for them to fight, less chance for someone to be seriously harmed and their loved ones to suffer. Especially amongst the young recruits, who likely had friends and families who were worried about them.

As the turtle slipped into the room, the sound prompted a slightly rotund youth to shift in his sleep, scratching at one leg and moving his jaw as he swallowed down the gathering saliva. His leg nudged a girl that was dozing down by his feet, causing her to snuffle slightly.

Holding his breath, the turtle kept very still and silent in the hope that she wouldn't awaken and force him to fight her. Tense moments passed where she seemed to teeter on the edge of consciousness, but then her chin dipped back down to her chest and her head slumped to the side as she fell back into slumber.

Carefully pulling out a length of rope, Michelangelo stepped across the mishmash of limbs and sleeping bodies. Reaching down, he started to cautiously bind the hands and the feet of the Foot soldiers together. Frowning in concentration, the turtle tried not to jog the youths more than necessary and risk them waking up.

Just how tight to bind them was also a consideration. He wanted them to be held securely, but not so constricted that he risked injuring them. It wasn't something he'd previously been concerned over, but more aware now of the repercussions of being on the losing side of a battle had made the young turtle conscientious in his task.

Wary that one of them seemed to be sleeping lighter than the others, perhaps after not consuming as much of the pizza as some of her fellows, he left the girl who had almost woken until last. But, fortunately, she didn't stir again. Even as he had to lift one arm across her body to bring her wrists together.

Finally, stepping back to admire his handiwork, Mikey carefully brushed his hands together. The nausea he had been suffering from before had abated, and looking at the few remaining slices of pizza was making the turtle feel hungry. It had been a busy evening so far! Surely, if he just ate one slice, it wouldn't cause any problems…

He'd been reaching towards the box, but was distracted by the feel and the slight sound of his t-phone buzzing within his belt. Straightening, Michelangelo pulled out the device to see what the message was that he'd received. Hopefully it was another discount code for Antonio's pizzeria, he thought with a lick of his lips. After tonight's mission, they could do with a celebration.

But it wasn't Antonio's. Instead, the alert had come from the new application that April had put onto his phone. He'd been helping her and Donnie with the new tech they'd been developing, to assist his brother during the mission. She'd wanted to test it on the different devices.

Opening the notification, Mikey initially started reading with a mixture of pride at his involvement in testing the application and curiosity about what had been sent to him. But those emotions rapidly gave way to others, as he skimmed through the messages. Even as he was busy reading, another warning came in with growing urgency.

Michelangelo's eyes widened in dismay and then his brow began to furrow in alarm. If he was understanding these messages correctly, then Donatello was on the cusp of having another seizure while he was out on a mission with April.

They were meant to be staying hidden. If Donnie had a fit, would he accidentally give their location away? Would the Foot soldiers find them? Could April fight them off alone? Afterwards, his brother was weak as a kitten. He'd be completely helpless.

He had to get to them, Michelangelo realised, as his worry grew from a trickle to a torrent. Donatello and April needed him! The two mission locations were only a few blocks apart. Restraining the Foot-soldiers was done, and his eldest brothers could handle taking down the rest of the storehouse without his help.

Sticking his t-phone back into his belt, the turtle dashed over to the doorway that led into the entrance of the building. Running for the main door, he found it locked. Well, no deadbolt was going to prevent him from saving his brother!

A heavy kick to the offending door had the lock surrendering into splinters, as it fractured under the determined blow. The glass of the window also shattered from the impact, scattering the chips across the ground as it collapsed into pieces. The exit burst open into the cool air of the night, granting Mikey unimpeded access to the deserted road beyond.

"I'm coming, D!" the turtle bellowed, as he ran heedlessly past the security cameras and out onto the dark streets.

All thoughts of stealth forgotten, Michelangelo's feet pounded on the tarmac as he raced down the pavement and swung around the corner at the end of the block. It was fortunate for the unconcealed turtle that the late hour meant few were watching the streets below their windows, and less were out upon them.

Feeling another vibration from the t-phone at his belt, Mikey didn't need to spare it a glance to know what it meant. Pushing himself harder, he lengthened his stride as he raced towards the final corner, hoping desperately that he wouldn't be too late.


	33. Chapter 32: Retaliation

Chapter 32: Retaliation

As frustrating as it was to have Michelangelo bail on them, Leonardo could understand a bit of how his brother was feeling. He'd been there once, crippled with fear after the revelation that the ones they fought weren't always just mindless foes who suffered alone in their defeat. It was just something that his brother was going to have to find his own way past.

However, there was always a chance that Mikey feeling unwell hadn't been related to fear at all. The air was heavy with the stench of the chemical solution that the Shredder was using to pollute the environment. It was making the leader's stomach turn and his skin prickle uncomfortably, but it wasn't anything he couldn't just ignore as he determinedly pressed on with the mission.

"So, when are we actually gonna destroy this place?" Raphael whispered, as he materialised at Leonardo's side.

"We're not here to destroy," Leo replied, keeping his voice low. "We're here to stop them from polluting the city. To do that, all we need to do is take out the Foot-bots, and any mutants, that law enforcement wouldn't be able to handle. And we need to do it without leaving any trace that we were here.

"April and Donnie will have gotten the evidence of what the Foot are doing, and they'll call the environment agency and the police. They'll find this place, arrest the youths, and arrange for the chemicals to be disposed of responsibly."

"Well that doesn't sound fun at all…"

Leonardo rolled his eyes. "It sounds exactly like what ninjas should be doing, Raph. Now c'mon."

Creeping around the next corner, he gestured towards a Foot-bot standing at the end of the crossroads between several walkways. There was no easy approach that would keep the turtles reliably hidden, so it seemed sensible to dispatch this one at range.

Making a sharp movement at his wrist, Leo was pleased that Raph immediately caught his meaning and reached to draw out a shuriken. The leader could have made the strike himself, but he knew that letting his antagonistic brother be the one to cause carnage helped keep him focused and, relatively, compliant.

Knowing how skilled Raphael was with the throwing weapons, Leonardo wasn't anticipating his brother having any difficulty making the clear shot to take out the vitals and send the robot enemy crumpling silently to the ground. It came as a shock when, instead, his brother maladroitly fumbled the shuriken and sent it careening into one of the nearby plastic containers.

Liquid bubbled out of the split and ran down to pool on the ground beside the two turtles, increasing the strength of the stench in their vicinity. They were lucky that the botched manoeuvre was at least near silent, so their target mercifully remained oblivious.

"What the shell was that?" Leo hissed, with a mixture of shock and frustration.

Raph looked up from staring in disbelief at his hand, suitably mortified by his performance. "I… I dunno! My hand just... Ngh."

Gritting his teeth as humiliation evolved to anger, Raphael suddenly crept forward and snatched the offending shuriken out of the bottle, causing more of the chemical contained within to spill down by his feet. Heedless of this, the turtle flung the weapon irritably towards the target for the second time.

This time the shot struck home and connected with the Foot-bot's neck. With a small fizz as the circuits fried, the robot dropped down onto the floor where it lay in a motionless heap.

"There," Raph muttered. Yet the satisfaction of making the shot was clearly mitigated by his earlier failure.

"All right, come on," Leo whispered, moving to pass his brother and head down to the end of the walkway. "We need to hurry, before someone has chance t-to find the… the…"

Leonardo frowned. The word he was looking for had suddenly vanished from his vocabulary. It had been there when he started the sentence, but then suddenly disappeared as if it had never existed. How could that even happen?

He quickly looked up, as he realised Raphael was staring at him in surprise.

"Did you just stutter?"

"No!"

Or had he? Leo shook his head. He was just picking up some of Donnie's new mannerisms, that was all. He'd have to be more careful, as he was certain that doing something like that in front of his brother would be perceived as an insult, even if it was purely accidental.

Stepping carefully through the growing puddle of stinking liquid that was continuing to gurgle from the container, Leonardo moved past the sparking robot remains to peer around the corner and plan their next move.

He was greeted by another pathway through the racking, but this one seemed to open into a wider area beyond, ending at the far wall with the loading doors for the trucks. If there was a mutant overseer to the activities happening at this storehouse, that was certain to be where they would be found.

Sticking to the shadows, the turtles ghosted their way towards the loading area. Surveying from behind the shelter of an emptied rack, Leo was pleased to find his caution rewarded by the sight of Tiger Claw reading from a clipboard and periodically checking the numbers from the side of some plastic containers.

This was a task that the mutant clearly felt was beneath him, as he rumbled periodically with frustration and eventually slapped the clipboard down with a clatter, as he evidently failed to locate what he was searching for.

"Where are those useless new recruits?" he growled from behind the mask that covered his lower face. Despite the barrier, his complaint still echoed around the area.

If any of the Foot-soldiers had still been awake and within the vicinity, Leonardo was sure they would be quailing from the malevolence within the tone of their supervisor. Not to mention the unspoken promise of punishment for the transgression of not being present when required.

However, the youthful Foot soldiers wouldn't respond, the turtle thought smugly. Even the Foot-bots had been disabled. Tiger Claw was alone.

With Raph by his side, Leo was confident that the two of them wouldn't have any problem taking down the enemy. The mutant foe was outnumbered and outmatched. The two of them could finally get revenge for the enemy's part in what had happened to their little brother and his subsequent gloating over the injury that had been inflicted.

"It's over, Tiger Claw!" Leonardo stated boldly, stepping out from the shadows and striding purposefully towards the other mutant. "Your allies are down and the police are on their way. This operation is being shut down, effective immediately."

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" he heard Raph mutter sardonically from behind his shoulder.

Looking up sharply, Tiger Claw's initial expression of surprise was quickly replaced by one of belligerent amusement. "So, just two this time," he purred. "Which one of you shall I end today?"

Leo felt Raph bristle beside him and wasn't surprised as his hot-headed brother snapped a response at the same time as reaching for his weapons.

"You're gonna p-pay for—"

There was the sudden clatter of a sai, as it dropped from Raphael's hand onto the concrete floor. Though he snatched it back up straight away, the fumbled threatening gesture had already turned into a source of hilarity for their foe.

"Such foolish cubs," the tiger chuckled. "I shall enjoy this."

Without drawing his ranged weapons to begin the battle, the mutant instead sauntered casually towards the two turtles as if he were simply heading over for a chat. Not about to be drawn into complacency, Leonardo quickly reached back to obtain his blades from their sheaths.

Years of practice felt like they meant nothing, as his hands clumsily groped for the familiar hilts. As he finally found them, he swung forward to draw the ninjatō and raise them defensively before himself.

The sudden, unexpected heaviness of the weapons caught the turtle by surprise. He very nearly dropped his beloved swords onto the floor, just as Raphael had done moments earlier with his sai. Leonardo realised in alarm that his arms were trembling at the exertion, as if his blades had quadrupled in weight since their last use.

"What's g-going on?" he stammered in alarm.

"You're losing, before the fight has even begun." Tiger Claw smirked from behind his breathing mask, as he approached the two.

With a roar of frustration, Raph dove impulsively to strike their foe. One sai swung feebly through thin air, then the mutant tiger lazily raised a hand and cuffed the turtle across the face. It sent Raphael skidding across the floor as if he were nothing but a rag doll.

"Raph!" Leo cried in alarm, but quickly snapped his gaze from his brother back to the approaching enemy. The form of the mutant tiger was swimming dizzily in front of his eyes, the leader realised in a panic.

"You make this so easy," Tiger Claw stated with great relish. He raised one hand and flexed his fingers before making them into a fist.

Leonardo tried to force his body to strike out towards the enemy, to fight as it had been trained to do for years. But it was as if his muscles had been afflicted with a sudden weakness, while his brain had inexplicably obtained the fluidity of glue.

His feeble effort to raise his ninjatō to strike simply made it easier for Tiger Claw to bat the swords from his hold and send them clattering to the floor. Trapped staring in horrified bewilderment at his weapons, Leo would have been caught by surprise by the fist that was preparing to come his way.

Yet the strike was halted, as Tiger Claw instead stared with wide eyes at the reeking smoke that was beginning to plume from behind the racks of chemical filled containers.

"You started a fire?!" he gaped, horror on his face.

They hadn't; of that Leonardo was sure. But, sluggishly, he recalled the growing puddle of spilled chemical, and the fallen Foot-bot that had been spitting sparks.

"Maybe?" he admitted, as the first flickers of flame could be seen.


	34. Chapter 33: Satisfaction

**Chapter 33: Satisfaction**

Perhaps facing down two of the Foot-soldiers that Shredder had been recruiting and training from the disillusioned youth of New York City hadn't been Donatello's best plan. They were amateurs, but since his accident Donnie hadn't exactly been at the top of his own game. What he had in experience, they outmatched with speed and strength.

In an apparent malfunction, the mechanical exoskeleton that had been bracing his weakened right side had suddenly fallen away. At serious risk of dropping his weapon, now that the support was gone, Donnie hastily reversed his stance and flipped his bo staff to his other hand.

He could feel his body struggling with the demands of the fight. Even atop his permanent disabilities, he'd lost significant fitness during the weeks he'd spent as an invalid. His body was straining itself, pushing against the limits of capacity, to do what was needed. His pulse thundered within his ears, while his chest felt tight as he fought against the fear of failure.

Donatello could feel himself trembling, yet in an odd kind of way the sensation was strangely comforting. He was cognisant of the quivering, and able to at least slightly calm the movements by tightening the muscles in his arms and legs. He knew all too well that were he to have a seizure, such awareness and control would be instantly lost.

He had to finish the fight before that could happen.

It was a difficult manoeuvre to attempt with his off-hand, but Donnie knew he needed to do something swiftly, before his enemies had a chance to react and take advantage of his frailty. He started to swing as if he meant to hit at head height, before feinting at the last second to instead reverse the blow and strike at knee level.

Responding quickly, both youths ducked as the bo staff seemed to come whizzing towards their faces. With a sweet perfection beyond Donatello's wildest hopes, the pole instead caught each Foot-soldier in turn behind the knees, tipping them over to crash heavily onto the ground. There they sprawled; stunned, winded and out of the fight. All it took was one final jab with his staff, and they were rendered unconscious.

Donatello straightened, arching out his spine as he turned his face upwards and took several slow breaths. He could already feel that he was going to regret doing this much exercise. But, he couldn't stop the small smile that crept across his mouth. He'd battled, and won! What would his brothers think of that?

Had April returned with Casey yet, Donnie wondered with sudden hope. Had she seen him fight? Was she impressed? He turned around to glance back across the road, where someone he wasn't expecting was barrelling towards him.

"Mikey?"

His brother's face was contorted with panic. "Donnie! D! You're having a seizure!"

Donatello frowned in confusion. "What? No, I'm not." He smirked and gestured down at the heap of foot-soldiers. "I'm k-kicking butt, that's what I'm doing."

Now it was Michelangelo's turn to look confused, as he skidded to a halt and stared down at the floored foes. Hastily, he pulled out his t-phone and held it out with a pout. "Well, that's not what my t-phone says, brah!"

Blinking in slow surprise, Donnie recognised the app he'd been writing with April. "That's… Oh."

Like the gradual illumination of shifting clouds clearing a path for the moonlight, the elements in Donatello's mind finally revealed the picture of their parts. When coding the application, they hadn't factored in the changes to his electrodermal activity for when he was in battle. Not to mention his pulse, temperature, and movement.

The sensors must have picked up the changes and translated his physical response to the fight as an indication that he was building up to and then having a fit. That also explained the sudden and unexpected failure of his exoskeleton, the turtle realised. It was a safety feature he'd built in, so that in the event of a seizure he wouldn't harm himself against that which was designed to help him.

"Ah, um…" Donnie mumbled, as he clumsily tried to figure out how to explain all of that in a way that he could voice and that Mikey might stand a chance of understanding.

Yet, as it turned out, he didn't have to. His brother was beaming up at him as he chattered excitedly. "I'm glad you're okay, D! And you took out two Foot soldiers by yourself. That's awesome-sauce!"

Sudden warmth spread through Donatello at the sunny enthusiasm that Michelangelo exuded, and he found himself giving a toothy grin in response. "Yeah, I know!"

The two brothers shared a brief, happy embrace, before being distracted by the sound of bicycle wheels skidding around the corner towards them. Casey was pedalling, with April gripping his shoulders as she balanced at the rear of the bike and peered worriedly through the night towards the two turtles.

"Oh, thank goodness! It must have been a false alarm," she gasped, as soon as she spotted Donatello. She waved her t-phone by way of explanation and hopped off the bicycle as Casey pulled to a halt. "I thought you were in trouble."

Donnie shook his head and grinned. "No. I'm p-peachy."

"Guess that algorithm needs more work, huh?" April suggested, before suddenly realising several things. "Oh! You took down the Foot soldiers. Was that part of the plan?" She frowned. "And, what's Mikey doing here?"

"I got the alert too."

"Oh, that's right! I was testing on your t-phone. Sorry, Mikey," April apologised. "Do you need to get back to Raph and Leo?"

Michelangelo shook his head and glanced back towards the storehouse. "Nah, they've got everything under con- Is the building on fire?"

Everyone abruptly turned their attention in that direction, where a thin spiral of smoke was creeping into the night sky. Donatello's eyes widened in alarm. "This is bad. The ch-chemicals they're storing there a-are, are…"

"Volatile compounds!"

Donatello blinked in surprise, as irritation of having his sentence finished for him vied with being impressed that Michelangelo had known the answer.

"Dude, what does that even mean?" Casey asked, in frustration. "Is it gonna go boom?"

"No," Donnie answered, before reconsidering. "W-well, not unless they're storing something e-else that's explosive. S-solvents have low flash points, so the vapour w-will readily ignite on the liquid surface and travel rapidly."

April followed up with a simpler explanation. "It means the chemicals burn quickly and easily. If the warehouse is full…"

Donnie nodded in agreement. "It's all going up, a-and fast."

"Leo and Raph were still in there!" Mikey gasped. "And the tied-up Foot soldiers, too!"

Sirens, always a part of the backdrop of noise within the city, had steadily been increasing in volume. The teens glanced around, realising the same thing in rapid succession. As if drawn by the nearby fire, the help summoned by the call April had made earlier was finally heading for their location.

Hopping off his bike, Casey shoved it towards Michelangelo. "Dude, go! April and I will handle things here!"

Nodding, Mikey quickly jumped onto the bike. After a few seconds, Donnie realised his brother was waiting, staring back towards him.

"D, you comin'?"

Michelangelo wanted him to come along? Realisation suddenly bloomed. As a passenger on the bicycle, Donatello could make the journey at the speed required! Had Casey figured that out? Donnie had been expecting just to be told to get out of sight and to play no further part in the mission. Recognition that he still had something to contribute caused delight to swell in the turtle.

Nodding swiftly, he hurried over to hop up behind his brother. There, he gripped tightly to the ridge of Michelangelo's shell, as his brother kicked off from the ground and pedalled back the way he'd run before.

"Stay safe, guys!" April called after them.

"Oh! My e-ex-exo-sk-sk…skeleton," Donnie stammered as they swung around the first corner and it became a struggle to keep hold of Mikey. He'd left his mechanical aid behind, where it had fallen to the floor during the fight.

Michelangelo glanced briefly round at him, unable to deviate his attention from the path they were travelling for too long, at the speed they were going. "You wanna go back?"

After a moment of indecision, while staring at the growing plume of dark smoke that was billowing from their destination, Donatello shook his head. "No, there's no time. B-besides, we're gonna get Raph and Leo out of there. N-not have a fight."

"Or, both might happen," Mikey pointed out.

The two turtles sped around the block that led to the storehouse. Given that it was the early hours of the morning, Donnie didn't anticipate finding anyone else out on the streets. For the most part, his expectation was correct. However, as they rounded the final corner, the situation changed.

"Mikey!" Donatello hissed, tugging on his brother's arm and getting a terse nod in return as Michelangelo hastily pulled them into the darkness of the nearest alleyway.

Fortunately, the firefighters were too busy to notice the teenage mutants diving for cover. Their large, bright trucks were pulled in front of the building, while the men and women in uniform were busy unravelling hoses and hooking up to the nearest hydrants.

"What the hell happened here?" one of the firemen was saying, as they carried the trussed-up bodies of comatose foot soldiers out of the smashed-up entryway, to the relative safety of the open street.

"Oh, they got them out," Mikey whispered in relief.

Donnie shook his head; the safety of the Foot's lackeys not his concern. "What a-about Leo and Raph?"

Pulling out his t-phone, Michelangelo stared down at the screen and quickly set it to track for their missing brothers. Donatello gazed over his shoulder, hoping desperately that it would show the two of them outside of the building.

Unfortunately, it didn't.

"They're right in the thick of it!" Mikey stated in dismay. He tapped the button to call Leo's phone, and both turtles held their breath as they waited for an answer. But there was none, and after several rings the device cut to voicemail.

Donatello saw Michelangelo worriedly pressing his lips together, as he stared at the tangle of firefighters with the realisation that there was no easy way for them to get into the building via that route.

"C-c'mon," Donnie urged, taking hold of his brother's hand and starting to tug him further down the alleyway.

For a few moments Mikey looked confused, evidently thinking they were moving away from the scene. But, as Donnie went around the second corner, understanding finally dawned in his eyes.

Probably just as well, Donatello thought, as his strength was really waning now. His legs wobbled traitorously as he hurried on, so he was silently grateful when Michelangelo switched to take the lead and lent the flagging turtle some of his strength.

At the end of the alleyway was a tall set of cast iron gates, secured with a padlock and topped with viciously barbed wire. Beyond them lay an open area behind the burning storehouse, where the trailers could dock to either make or take deliveries. Large floodlights rose above the zone, but they were currently unlit. Most likely due to a loss of power to the building, as the fire raged within.

Michelangelo released Donatello's hand and pulled out a nunchuck, from which he deployed the blade of his kusarigama. One quick slash cut through the lock sent the chain tumbling to the floor, allowing the turtles to push through the gate and hurry into the expanse beyond.

Doing his best to ignore the overwhelming weariness, Donatello gritted his teeth and forced his body to keep pace with Michelangelo as the two of them darted across the concrete. They were most of the way there before Donnie narrowly missed a collision with his little brother, as Mikey suddenly screeched to a halt.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Michelangelo gasped, protectively throwing out a hand to stop Donatello from moving forward.

Looking up in alarm, the turtle's eyes widened as he saw the same thing his brother had. There, blocking their way, was the very last person he wanted to see. Reaching shakily back over his shoulder, Donatello clumsily drew his bo staff and braced for battle.


	35. Chapter 34: Conflagration

**Chapter 34: Conflagration**

Sent flying through the air by Tiger Claw, Raphael crashed with a _clang_ into one of the large sections of racking that held many of the vessels of stinking chemicals. With a low groan, he slid helplessly down to slump against the floor. His head was ringing, way more than the impact should have caused.

With its metal supports dented in the collision, the rack wobbled alarmingly for several precarious moments, before managing to settle itself and remain upright. Oblivious to the danger that had teetered above him, Raph groggily pushed himself to sitting and tried to focus on the fight he'd just been ejected from.

Through blurred vision, he saw Tiger Claw advancing on Leo. His brother's arms were trembling under the weight of trying to hold up his swords. Slowly, the blades were dipping towards the ground as if he could no longer keep them raised and ready for battle.

Just what was going on? Raph had dropped a sai when trying to draw them, then lost both when he'd been hit. He just hadn't had the strength and co-ordination to keep hold of his weapons. Even now, pushing himself back up to sitting was taking considerably more effort than the turtle felt like it ought to.

Blinking stupidly, Raphael tried to concentrate and keep his head in the fight. After batting Leonardo's swords easily away, Tiger Claw had stopped to stare past Leo towards some other part of the storehouse. Turning slowly in that direction, Raph could make out a curl of dark smoke rising from behind a row of racks. An acrid smell was drifting thickly towards them, as the fire rapidly grew.

"Foolish cubs!" Tiger Claw railed at Leonardo, whirling back to face him. "Do you know what you have done?!"

"Uh…um…w-well," Leo stammered, a bewildered look on his face that was most unlike the cool and collected leader.

With an infuriated roar, the enemy mutant whirled round and kicked Leonardo hard in the chest. Standing over his floored target, Tiger Claw drew one of his guns and aimed at point blank range. Hot anger rose in Raphael at the sight of his brother being threatened. It compounded with his hunger for revenge against the tiger for the enemy's part in what had happened to Donatello.

With bloody-minded fury fuelling a fresh burst of strength, Raphael staggered back to his feet and impulsively charged forward with a roar. His head was spinning, the storehouse seeming to lurch and ripple around him with every step, but Raph didn't give himself a chance to care. He just pounded on and was rewarded moments later with the feeling of his body colliding heavily with the enemy.

The two mutants went flying, crashing into the concrete and skidding across the floor before coming to an abrupt halt against a large crate. The collision caused the mask that had been covering Tiger Claw's nose and mouth to go spinning off into an increasingly smoky corner.

Immediately, Tiger Claw sought to throw off his assailant with a furious growl. "You will regret that!"

"Not as m-mush…much…as-as y-you will!" Raphael retorted, hearing the alien sound of himself slurring and stammering the words.

He couldn't understand what was happening. What was this strange weakness that had afflicted his body? Why couldn't he articulate properly what he wanted to say? Why was his focus so afflicted and his mind left wandering aimlessly?

Drawing back, Raph struck out with a punch that he'd aimed at Tiger Claw's face. It was hard to stay on target, as his arm seemed to wobble uncontrollably and then deplete of strength just when he needed it the most.

Thoughts of his brother popped into his head. Was this what Donatello was having to deal with, all the time? Yet what Raphael didn't understand is how he was suddenly experiencing the same problems. Had he taken a blow to the head and somehow forgotten it?

Despite the difficulties, Raph was gratified when his fist landed at Tiger Claw's neck. It hadn't been what he was aiming for, but it caused the mutant tiger to hiss as he jerked backwards. It was more in surprise and rage than any actual hurt, given the weakness of the strike, but right now the turtle was happy to take what he could.

Enraged, Tiger Claw angrily kicked off his assailant and then sprang quickly back to his feet. With the ice-ray gun still in one hand, this time the enemy aimed it straight between Raphael's eyes.

"Goodbye, you repulsive reptile," he snarled.

Some part of the Raph's mind knew that he needed to dodge out of the way, to avoid being terminally frozen. But it was as if much of his brain had decided to take a spontaneous nap, leaving him staring vacuously down the barrel of the gun.

It was fortunate for the turtle that Tiger Claw's threat never came to fruition, as he suddenly roared with pain and switched his attention to the shuriken that had embedded itself into his thigh. As the mutant impetuously ripped the metal point out, blood immediately began to ooze from the wound.

Raph felt hands tugging weakly at him. The sensation snapped him out of his stupor, and he rolled his head around to see Leo trying to pull him away from their foe.

"N-nice shot…" Raphael commended, weakly, as he awkwardly scrambled to hands and knees.

Leonardo shook his head with a grimace. "I w-wush…was… aiming f-for his a-arm."

The smoke was getting thicker. It stung at Raph's eyes and made every breath a struggle. The licking flames of the fire were getting brighter with each passing second, as the fire spread quickly between the racks. The temperature, steadily rising, was becoming uncomfortably hot.

"We have to g-get out of here," Leo insisted, tugging feebly to try and get Raph back to his feet.

"No. I shall leave. But you will stay and perish!" Tiger Claw rumbled, surging furiously towards the two of them.

The huge tiger lunged to grab the lip of Raphael's shell. The turtle tried to twist free, but was unable to break away as the other mutant bodily hauled him off the ground and into the air.

Raph felt Leo make a valiant effort to hold on to him, but his brother's grip was ripped mercilessly away. Out of the corner of his vision, Raphael saw Tiger Claw roughly kick Leonardo to one side, sending the leader careening backwards before collapsing into a dizzy heap beside a ladder that was propped against some boxes.

Windmilling his arms and kicking his legs as he tried in vain to escape, Raph was unable to stop himself from being hoisted above the mutant tiger's head. His shell was being arched uncomfortably by Tiger Claw's grip on it, while his stomach felt increasingly unsettled as it was pushed towards the high ceiling.

Plucking a shuriken from his belt, Raphael had intended to fling it back down at his captor. But instead, the slick metal star slid from his prickling fingers and dropped harmlessly to one side. Tiger Claw chuckled, as he grinned menacingly up at the turtle.

"You are not so skilled anymore," he mocked.

Feeling increasingly nauseated from the lurches as he was carried through smoke, Raph gritted his teeth and twisted to try and see where he was being taken, and whether he could use anything to aid his escape.

He was greeted by the growing view of flames, as the fire continued to gnaw hungrily through the ready supply of chemicals. Tiger Claw meant to throw him into the middle of it, the turtle realised in horror. His emerald eyes widened at the sight of the peril that loomed in his future. Unless he managed to free himself, he would be tossed into the midst of the inferno and baked in his shell.

With renewed effort and strength, empowered by fear, the turtle thrashed again to try and get himself free. But although he managed to cause a falter in the tiger's step, it wasn't enough to put a stop to the movement and allow him to escape.

The heat was stinging painfully against Raphael's skin as Tiger Claw suddenly stopped. For a split second the turtle thought his foe had changed his mind, but abruptly he realised the opposite was true. His enemy was leaning back because he was preparing to throw.

Staring down at the tiger in alarm, Raph opened his mouth to try and plead desperately for his life. But before he could pour out such a stream of humiliation, he saw the hope restoring sight of his brother staggering determinedly towards them.

Leonardo, suddenly realising that time was against him, dove dizzily forward to launch a desperate strike against the tiger. Even from his awkward vantage point, Raphael could tell that the blow was barely strong enough to swat a fly. Indeed, it would have been entirely ineffectual, if it hadn't been aimed right at the bleeding gash on Tiger Claw's thigh.

Howling in sudden pain, but unable to stop the momentum of the throw, the attack at least disrupted the tiger's aim. Instead of plunging into fiery death, Raphael flew a short distance to one side, where he slammed back against the large rack of shelves. His shell bounced off the struts, leaving a further dent in the metal, before the turtle fell into a bruised heap upon the floor.

Scrambling woozily back to his feet, while pawing at his watering, smoke filled eyes, Raph raised his head just in time to peer through the haze and see Leo being mercilessly slammed into the ground by Tiger Claw. His brother lay motionless now, but the tiger seemed unsatisfied with that and was moving in to make the kill.

There was no way he could cross the distance in time to tackle Tiger Claw away, but Raphael firmly flexed his numb fingers before reaching into his belt to withdraw his final shuriken. It was several moments after he flung the weapon in roughly the right direction that he realised he hadn't drawn a shuriken at all. Instead, spinning towards the enemy, was a smoke bomb.

In a panic, the turtle fumbled to grab an actual weapon from his belt to try again. But he was halted by a whining, crunching noise from behind his shoulder. Looking up in alarm, it was too late for him to avoid the danger. With a series of ominous shrieks, the heavy rack crashed down on top of Raphael.


	36. Chapter 35: Retribution

**Chapter 35: Retribution**

Michelangelo swallowed nervously, rivetted in place as he stood protectively in front of Donatello. As much as the young turtle longed for an unexpected talent in invisibility to suddenly manifest, it wasn't going to happen. Tiger Claw had spotted them.

The mutant had been hurrying out of the burning storehouse, pawing at the purple powder in his eyes and evidently expecting to head to safety. But if he was coming out, what had happened with Raphael and Leonardo? Were they still inside? Had the two factions clashed?

Tiger Claw stopped his escape, instead straightening to stare straight at the two turtles with an initial look of surprise, but then a disturbing smile of relish upon his features. It was that look which sent horror spiralling round within the teen, as he realised what it implied for his eldest brothers.

Fear gripped at Mikey like a hundred inky hands plucking at him from all angles. They pinched at his skin and stole his breath away as terror rose overwhelmingly. He could feel everything beginning to tremble, from his knees through to his chin.

He couldn't fight. He was too scared to fight. Tiger Claw's fearsome reputation was terrifyingly earned, so even the will to battle was no guarantee of success. But, that wasn't the only problem. Even facing such a terrifying foe, one who had been directly involved in causing Donnie's injuries, Mikey was still crushed by compassion.

Once upon a time, Tiger Claw must have had a family. Someone must have nurtured him, during his earliest years. Did they know what had happened to their son? If he was injured, or died, would they be traumatised?

Even amongst his Foot Clan allies, surely there must be some who cared for him. Some who would be saddened by his hurt, or mourn his loss. To not build connections of camaraderie with those you fought alongside was a concept so foreign to Michelangelo that he couldn't imagine it, even for his most hated enemies.

As the turtle stared, fixed to the spot, he saw the mutant tiger determinedly stride towards them. Malevolence filled his expression, and his paw went for the heat ray. Its icy twin was missing.

"H-he's injured," Donnie noted, from behind Mikey's left shoulder. Looking again, the turtle's eyes flicked to the bleeding gash on Tiger Claw's thigh.

That made things slightly easier. Perhaps. Swallowing nervously, Michelangelo tried to convince himself that he could harry their enemy and keep him busy, while Donatello rushed in to save Leonardo and Raphael.

If there was anything left to save, Mikey thought, with his stomach taking a sudden lurch. As he glanced briefly back towards his other brother, he found himself wondering also whether Donnie could provide such a rescue by himself.

As if agreeing with him, Mikey felt his t-phone buzz with another warning from the seizure sensor that Donnie and April had set up.

Donatello wasn't looking great. It had been a long night, and his brother had already been in one battle this evening. He didn't look like he was in any shape for another, or indeed for anything other than brushing his teeth and going to bed. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed to be deepening by the second and his hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to hold his bo-staff ready to battle.

"Th-this one might n-n-not be a false alarm," Donnie admitted faintly, as he tremulously met Mikey's gaze.

Michelangelo swallowed nervously, but forced a confident smile onto his face. "No problemo, D," the little turtle stated. "You chill, brah. I got this."

Seeing Tiger Claw raising the heat-ray and readying to fire, Mikey abruptly sprang forward. He was not about to let the enemy pick them off at range with the gun. Swinging round, he aimed a high kick at the weapon, with the intention of knocking it out of the mutant's hand.

But the enemy was too fast and jerked his arm up out of reach. Not to be outdone, Mikey immediately utilised the extended reach of his weapons and spun one end of a nunchuck towards the same target.

With a quizzical look, Tiger Claw moved it out of the way again. "You are fighting my gun instead of me, little cub?" he taunted, before baring his fangs menacingly. "It is not my weapon that you should fear."

It was a threat that had teeth as well as claws, as the tiger slashed through what would have been Michelangelo, if he hadn't vacated that position with milliseconds to spare. Popping up behind his enemy, the turtle swung a nunchuck to strike.

He really wanted to do this, Mikey told himself sternly. He had to be brave and ruthless, like Raph. He had to really want to see Tiger Claw come to harm, to be punished for all the wrongs that he had ever committed against the turtles. Not to mention every other innocent person he had caused to suffer.

Except that just wasn't the case. At the last moment, Michelangelo pulled his blow and ended up giving the mutant tiger the lightest tap across the back of the knees with his weapon. Their diminutive friend, Mondo Gecko, could have hit harder. So, it had no chance of doing any good against Tiger Claw.

Twisting round, the enemy reached down with one big paw towards Michelangelo. Seeing the hand looming towards him, the turtle dove forward with a gasp and managed to roll clear just before the clawed fingers snapped shut.

In the corner of his vision, Michelangelo saw that Donatello had managed to stagger over to the relative cover of a dumpster that was pushed against the perimeter fence. He was crouched down beside it, with his head in his hands. No help was coming from there, but at least for the moment his brother was out of harms reach.

Unfortunately, behind them both, the building was still burning. Not as quickly now that there were several snaky trails of foam falling onto the partially collapsed roof, from the efforts of the fire-fighters on the far side of the building. But flames were still dancing into the air and belching black smoke, as the fire steadily spread throughout the area.

His eldest brothers were still in there. Tears stung at Mikey's eyes. Leo and Raph. They could be dead already, or injured and facing their doom in the lapping inferno. He wanted to save them, but he couldn't. He was trapped in a battle he couldn't fight, and therefore couldn't win.

The swish of movement alerted Michelangelo to dive aside again, as Tiger Claw's foot skimmed the trailing ends of his short bandanna tails. Bouncing back to his feet, the turtle back-flipped to escape a second blow that immediately followed.

Tiger Claw growled in frustration, as he wheeled around and raised his gun. "Stand still so I can hurt you!"

Hurt. He was going to get hurt. If Tiger Claw was hurt, it would cause sadness on the enemies' side. But, equally, Mikey knew that if he was the one to be hurt then his family and his friends would be aggrieved, just like they had been with Donnie.

But that was only the start. If he didn't defeat this foe, then Donatello would be finished. Leonardo and Raphael would never escape the fire. All his brothers could perish, and that would make Michelangelo very sad indeed.

Abruptly, something clicked in the young turtle's mind. Fighting caused misery. No matter who was clashing, no matter what the outcome, someone would suffer for it. That's why Splinter urged them only to fight when they needed to, but that when they needed to fight they were to do so to the utmost of their ability.

Michelangelo's expression intensified as the realisation was swiftly followed by another. This fight was already happening, and consequentially someone would certainly suffer for it. But it wouldn't be him, the turtle suddenly resolved. It wouldn't be his family or friends. It would be Shredder, and all the ones that considered Tiger Claw their friend and ally.

A battle roar burst unbidden, as Mikey abruptly changed tactics. Instead of leaping around in defence, he dove to face his foe in a violent whirl of chains and sticks.

"BOO-YA-KA-SHAAA!" Michelangelo screamed into the face of Tiger Claw, as he pummelled the mutant with an endless rain of blows. They seemed all the more jarring after his pacifistic strikes from before.

Surprised by the sudden change in his foe, Tiger Claw staggered backwards and frantically tried to defend himself from the hail of attacks. Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn't get a strike in edgewise. Within four blows, Mikey had sent the heat-ray skidding off into the darkness. Within eight, his enemy was down to his knees.

A final clout sent Tiger Claw tumbling flat onto his face to the ground, stunned into motionlessness. Michelangelo stood triumphantly over him, nunchucks stilled and his chest heaving as he fought to recapture his breath.

The smoky air stung his throat and sharply reminded him that he had no time to spare lording it over his fallen foe. Slipping his weapons back into his belt, Mikey turned and bounded over towards where his brother was still sat on the ground.

"I did it! I did it, Donnie!" he gushed, excitedly. "Tiger Claw is down."

He was both pleased and relieved as Donatello carefully unpeeled his hands from his head and blinked hazily up. He still looked tired and shaky, but he clearly hadn't experienced a debilitating seizure.

"Are you okay?" Mikey asked in concern.

"Yeah," Donnie started, before his face wrinkled in disgust. "I can't believe that m-m-med-meditating actually worked. For now, at least."

A sudden crash from the warehouse as another section of the roof collapsed caused both the turtles to look up in alarm.

"Leo… Raph!" Mikey gasped, worriedly, "C'mon, D. We gotta save them!"

Donatello nodded tightly, reaching for a hand that Michelangelo willingly provided. Pulling his brother back to his feet, the two hurried towards the building. The youngest turtle had been about to plunge straight in, but found his brother tugging at him to stop.

"Mikey, wait! P-put this on." Reaching into a box next to the doorway, Donatello pulled out something that looked like steampunk's answer to a swimming mask. "It'll filter the smoke, and the t-toxic fumes."

Nodding obediently, Michelangelo nevertheless paused to watch how his brother put his own mask on before trying it himself. Probably just as well, he reflected, as without a point of reference he'd probably have worn it upside-down.

"Were Leo and Raph wearing m-m-masks?" Donnie asked worriedly, his voice muffled, and when Mikey shook his head he quickly grabbed two spares.

Another crunching sound inside the building caused both the turtles to hesitate, glancing nervously at one another. Steeling himself with a breath, Michelangelo held out his hand.

"Okay, let's go and save their shells!"

Donatello's jaw set determinedly, and he gave a brief nod as he slid his fingers into Michelangelo's waiting palm. The two locked their hands tightly together, drawing courage from knowing that the other was there.

Plunging into the smoke-filled storehouse, lit by the terrifying flicker of flames, Mikey desperately hoped that they weren't too late.


	37. Chapter 36: Absolution

**Chapter 36: Absolution**

With a groan, Leonardo unsteadily raised his head and blinked his painful eyes as he tried to look through the surrounding haze. Had he blacked out? There was an uncomfortable pounding behind his brow that promised it was on the way to becoming the mother of all headaches.

"Leo!"

That was Raph's voice. Coughing and choking in the engulfing smoke as he scrambled shakily back to his feet, the leader flapped an arm ineffectually before himself to try and clear the air. It didn't help. Instead, he almost knocked himself back to the floor.

From nearby there was the sound of wretched hacking, before a louder bellow. "LEO!"

"R-Raph! I-I'm coming!" Leonardo gasped, staggering blindly towards the sound.

Fear was driving into his chest, along with the heat of the growing inferno. Leo desperately wanted to turn and flee in the opposite direction, away from the scorching fire and towards the doorway that led to fresh air and safety. But there was no way he was going to just abandon his brother.

"H-help!" Raphael called, panic raising the tone of his voice. "I'm st-stuck!"

Stumbling through the smoke, Leonardo almost tripped over the prone turtle. Dropping to his knees, he reached out to support his filmy vision by feeling as much as he could of Raphael's predicament.

One of the heavy racks had toppled over and partially landed on his brother. Although Raph's carapace had stopped him from being crushed, it meant he was now solidly wedged in place, despite his frantic scrabbles to get himself free.

"D-don't worry… I-I'll get you out!" Leo promised, reaching to grab hold of the nearest bar of the shelving unit.

He strained and heaved as he put everything he could muster into lifting the weight. But it just wasn't enough. The burden was too great, his body was too weak. He couldn't budge the heavy rack.

Gasping and coughing from exertion, Leonardo was forced to let go. He helplessly doubled over, as he fought a feeling of faintness that beckoned invitingly from the edges of his consciousness. From down on the ground, Raphael had been gazing at him in hope. Yet that now slowly faded, as it was replaced with realisation and then growing dread.

A terrifying crunching, cracking noise from the ceiling gave only a second or two of warning before a large section of the smouldering roof began to fall. Leonardo leaned forward to shield his brother as best he could, as the debris hit the ground alarmingly close to the two turtles. A wave of dust and ash briefly engulfed them.

Coughing and spluttering, Raph craned his neck to gaze worriedly up at the remaining ceiling suspended directly above them. It was hidden by the dark, billowing smoke, leaving no way of telling whether it was likely to come down on top of them at any moment.

"G-get out of here," Raphael insisted, his brow furrowing. "Get out, Leo!"

Leonardo shook his head stubbornly and straightened. "I-I-I'm not leaving you!"

"I won't let…a-anyone else get…get hurt b-becush of me!" Raph gasped back, struggling to draw the breath to argue. He reached out with an arm to shove weakly at Leo's leg, as if he could somehow push him to safety.

There was one big reason why there was no way that the leader would ever abandon any of his family while there was still life in his body. But now was not the time to argue about it.

"Shush, Raph! I'm t-trying to think." Leonardo skirted around the rack to examine the containers that were weighing it down.

His brother lapsed into reluctant silence, giving up the dispute in favour of trying to suck down air. It gave Leo the chance to fully concentrate on taking a firm hold of one of the bottles. Launching himself backwards, as he used his body weight more than his strength to haul it free.

Falling ungracefully to the ground, the container tumbled after him and slammed against his chest, winding the turtle.

"Oof…" Leonardo groaned, as he awkwardly shoved the heavy vessel off himself.

He could feel himself trying to sweat from effort, fear and from the heat of the stinking fire. Yet it barely had chance to form upon his grimy skin before being evaporated away.

The flames grew in intensity with every passing moment, spewing stinking smoke and causing his eyes to stream and sting. If they weren't crushed by falling debris, how long did they have before he and Raphael were overcome by the noxious fumes, then burnt to death?

Trying to push the morbid thoughts from his mind, Leo staggered over to the rack and began to scramble back onto it, intending to drag another of the weighty bottles off and hopefully make it easier to unpin Raph.

Everything was swimming before the turtle's gaze. As he climbed laboriously onto the metal structure, he was forced to pause and gasp frantically for air that just didn't seem to exist. He heard Raphael coughing weakly from somewhere beneath him.

Reaching shakily for the next container, Leonardo attempted to get his trembling fingers to close around it. But his traitorous hands wouldn't, or couldn't, do as he required. Gritting his teeth in frustration, the leader refused to accept the failure. He had to keep trying! But how? It felt like his strength and dexterity were draining by the second.

"Leo! Raph!"

The cry was muffled, but there was no mistaking Michelangelo's youthful voice. He'd come back to them! With hope suddenly rising, Leonardo quickly straightened and sucked in what little air he could find.

"H-here! We're here!" he yelled, before dissolving back into helpless coughing.

Through the haze, he could make out the shadow of a body hurrying towards them. Then it split into two distinct shapes that became the welcome forms of his youngest brothers. Their faces were shielded behind masks, like the one Tiger Claw had been wearing.

He had no idea how or why Donnie was here, but there were bigger concerns. "R-Raph's stuck!" Leo gasped, trying to climb down from the rack and all but falling the short distance.

"The fire!" Mikey gasped, as if no-one was aware of the wall of flame that was bearing down upon them.

Running forward to the rack, Michelangelo strained to try and lift it. But although it creaked slightly, there was not enough movement for Raphael to escape. Even when Leonardo tried to assist, the two of them got no further.

"No, stop! It's t-too heavy! We need… We need…"

Donatello looked tired, but the familiar spark of intelligence was there. Leonardo saw his brother taking in the situation, clearly attempting to come up with one of his jury-rigged solutions. Not wanting to apply extra pressure to the palpable tension, the leader silently willed Donnie to hurry.

"Mikey, g-get that ladder!"

A ladder? Why did they need a ladder? The rack wasn't that tall when horizontal. As Michelangelo bounded off to do as he was told, Leonardo found a breathing mask being clumsily pushed onto his face by Donatello. His scorched lungs gratefully sucked in the filtered air as if it were fresh from the forest.

By the time Mikey returned, Donnie had fitted another of the breathing masks onto Raph's face. Leo was relieved to see that the trapped turtle was still conscious and responding weakly to instructions.

Haltingly directing Michelangelo, Donatello arranged the ladder so it was jammed through the shelves near to the ground, while resting at an angle against a solid looking junction box that protruded from the floor.

He'd created a pivot, the leader realised in sudden elation, as Donnie started to awkwardly pull himself up onto the elevated rungs of the ladder. As his weight counterbalanced the effort, the metal shrieked as the two separate pieces interlocked and began to strain against one other.

"Mikey, g-grab Raph's ha-hands and pull!" Leonardo instructed, as he staggered over to add his weight to the ladder.

The littlest turtle was happy to oblige and leapt quickly over to do as instructed. As he grabbed Raphael's hands, he couldn't help but throw in some words of motivation. "Come on, you bulbous toad. Pull yourself free!"

Well, that was one way to motivate Raph. Shaking his head, Leo scrambled up to join Donnie as they climbed the rungs. Beneath him, the leader could feel the metal beginning to buckle.

"I h-hope this holds…" Donnie stammered uncertainly as he shakily inched closer to the end of the ladder.

Silently, Leo was thinking the same thing. But he didn't voice it, he just took hold of his brother's forearms so they could support one another in making their way to the very edge of the impromptu lever. There they balanced precariously, providing the counterweight for raising the heavy racking.

Several ominous creaking noises were coming from the lifting end of the improvised structure, mingling in with the strains of effort from the other turtles as they struggled to get Raph free from his predicament.

Then there was a sudden lurch, causing both Leonardo and Donatello to gasp in shock. The ladder sheared near the ground, causing the end on which they were perched to abruptly drop like a see-saw. There was a grinding clunk that mingled with their yelps of surprise, as the rack clanged to a resounding rest.

Although he'd gained a few more bruises from being dropped so rapidly, it hadn't caused the leader any serious damage. Leo was relieved to see Donnie similarly unharmed, as the two hastily fought to disentangle themselves from the remains of ladder.

"Raph! M-Mikey!" Donnie cried, staggering into the smoke as soon as he was able.

Leonardo, similarly worried, plunged after him. Had the other two escaped in time? Had the rack falling back crushed Raphael more than his shell could protect?

Relief washed over the leader, as the four turtles collided and ended up entangled in a spontaneous embrace with cries of relief all around, at the discovery that everyone was safe.

The rescue hadn't come a moment too soon, as with a renewed blast of heat the containers on the rack began to ignite from fire that had been lapping against them. The rush of flames stretched towards the ceiling, sending more ominous groans throughout the failing structure of the building.

"Go!" Leo cried, pulling at his brothers to prompt them to head for the exit. "GO!"

Rushing from the storehouse as it crumbled behind them, the four of them burst out into the night. Casting aside the breathing masks as soon as they could gulp down the fresh air, it was unclear who was supporting whom as they hurried away from the building and towards the blissful peace of a litter strewn alleyway.

All the turtles were coated in the black smudges of smoke, their reddened and inflamed eyes streaming tears that left tracks through the dirt on their faces. Their bodies bore the bruises of battle, and the cool night felt soothing against skin that had been scorched by the intense heat.

"We made it!" Mikey gasped in exultation, an infectious grin splitting his face. "High-three, dudes!"

As he raised a hand into the air, Leo grinned wearily back and readily reached out to join in as the four of them clapped their hands together in celebration.

"Yeah… We acshully d-did it," Raphael slurred, breaking away to lean back against the wall in exhausted relief as he clutched a hand across his battered ribcage.

It was a sentiment that Leonardo shared with a nod. But he only knew the results of half the mission. "H-how did you and April get on?" he asked, turning to Donatello.

Donnie slid down to sit blearily on the floor, but managed to offer Leo a weak smile. "No p-problems."

"D took the two Foot soldiers out by himself!" Mikey interjected, proudly. "Then the cops turned up just as we left."

"Great work, Donnie." Leonardo commended, smiling at his brother. "For that a-and the ladder idea."

"Y-yeah," Raphael agreed. "Geeze, I've l-lost count of how much I o-owe you."

Donatello chuckled. "Let's just go with nothing."

For a few moments there was calm, as the four of them took the chance to catch their breath.

"Tiger Claw wasn't where we left him," Michelangelo suddenly lamented, breaking the silence. "He must have gotten away."

"That's o-okay, Mikey," Donnie consoled. "You still beat him!"

Raph glanced towards them in surprise. "He b-beat Tiger Claw?"

"By hi-himself!"

"N-nice, Mikey!" Leo said, with a happy grin. It seemed that their brother had finally overcome the problems he'd been facing, and found his reason to fight. Even Raph looked impressed, and reached shakily over to give the littlest turtle an affectionate clap on the shell.

Glancing between his brothers, Michelangelo's joyful smile slowly faded into confusion. "What's with the slurring and the stammering? Are we all doing it now?"

Leo shook his head, but it was Donnie that got there first with the answer.

"It'll be a-an effect of the ch-chemical fume in-inha-ha-lation," he explained. "It's t-toxic to the central nervous system."

Although he suspected he knew the answer, as the effects seemed to be lessening with each passing minute, Leo asked anyway. "It's t-temporary, right?"

There was a disquieting hesitation before Donnie replied. "Yeah, your symptoms w-will wear off," he explained, offering a weak smile. "You and Raph will be f-fine in a day or so."

The edge to his brother's words abruptly threatened to extinguish the elation of success. Leonardo caught the subtle meaning all too well. For him and Raphael, the symptoms would go. That was something Donatello would never have, he would be saddled with the similar effects caused by his injury forever.

How did he even respond to that, the leader wondered remorsefully. However, he didn't have to. Michelangelo suddenly threw himself across Donatello's shell to cling to his brother in a limpet hug that jolted the taller turtle in surprise. The movement was punctuated with the slight noise of one of their t-phones vibrating.

"You two just couldn't cope as well as D does, anyway!" Mikey teased, grinning cheekily at the eldest turtles. "Donnie's got it sorted. He's found himself a new normal!"

Donatello opened his mouth as if to object, but then paused as he seemed to change his mind. With a soft sigh, he twisted to offer Michelangelo a gratified, but exhausted smile. "Yeah, I g-guess I have."

"We all have." Raph stated, unpeeling his fingers from his ribs and reaching a hand down towards them both. "Now c'mon, let's g-get out of here. I don't wanna look at or smell that fire anymore."

Leonardo nodded in agreement, but was surprised to see Donatello shun the offered help and wearily shake his head, while Michelangelo continued to hug him consolingly.

"F-five minutes," Donnie explained tremulously, raising both hands to shakily show the requisite number of digits. "P-pretty sure I'm gonna…"

He petered out, but Leo immediately got the meaning and quickly stepped in to take charge of the situation. "Okay, Donnie, lie down. I'll keep a lookout. Mikey, c-clear some space. Raph—"

"Yeah, I know."

Raphael was already dropping to his knees and tugging to remove his elbow pads, in order to use them to protect Donatello's head and neck. Pulling back, Michelangelo moved to quickly kick the alleyway detritus out of their immediate area, while their tall brother crumpled to the side as the tremors began.

There was no panic, no alarm. The situation was just quietly handled with calm, compassionate care. From his vantage point, guarding the end of the alleyway, Leonardo watched on with an odd mixture of pride and affection as his two brothers worked like a well-oiled team to offer soothing words as they handled the now familiar incident of the third suffering a seizure.

Mercifully they were undiscovered within the alleyway, and after a short while Donatello gradually lapsed into stillness.

"You okay, Donnie?" Raph asked, gently rubbing his brother's shoulders while Mikey hovered attentively nearby.

With a soft groan, the turtle slowly nodded. "Y-yeah. How long..?"

"Four and a half minutes." Leo confirmed, as he headed back over.

Crouching down, he gently pulled one of Donnie's arms over his shoulder and saw Mikey hurry to do the same on the other side. Between them, they carefully eased their enervated brother to sitting and then standing.

Making their way slowly towards the nearest manhole cover, Leonardo paused briefly to glance back towards the smouldering remains of their enemy's chemical storehouse. "Maybe it wasn't the best method," he admitted, "but between us, _all_ of us, we've destroyed Shredder's supply of chemicals and exposed who was p-polluting the sewers."

"I'd say that's mission complete," he declared, with a smile that was echoed by his family. "Let's go home."


	38. Epilogue: Yesterday's News

**Epilogue: Yesterday's News**

Within the lair, it had been a lazy start to the next day. None of the turtles had stirred in time for morning practice in the dojo. Fortunately, Master Splinter showed sympathy following their gruelling mission and had allowed the teens a day off, granting them some well-earned rest.

Donatello, beyond exhausted at the end of the previous night, had been the last to stir. He'd woken to find that he ached all over after their arduous adventures. His solo battle against the foot soldiers, then his part in the rescue of Raphael and the subsequent seizure had taken its toll on his weakened body.

Yet even with the lingering pains, the joy that still fluttered away within the turtle couldn't be dampened. Mikey had been right when he'd said they'd found themselves a new normal. Things weren't the same as they'd been before, but they were a team once more. Sure, Donnie had new limits, but nothing was insurmountable. Especially with his family by his side.

Sitting in his laboratory, surrounded by the comforts of his familiar possessions, Donnie felt content and at ease. It was a feeling that, at one point, he'd doubted he'd experience again. Yet here it was, burning brightly within him and filling the turtle with a sensation of happiness and wellbeing. Even the nagging aches in his limbs felt like trophies.

"Donnie! It's on!"

Carefully, Donatello lowered his screwdriver and set it gently down onto the desk. It landed without a clumsy bump, something that he was inexorably pleased about. His dexterity was not back to pre-accident levels, and he doubted that it ever would be, but it was good enough to get by. Especially when he had willing help.

Beaming happily, Michelangelo put down the toaster. He'd been holding it steady, assisting Donatello in fixing up the latest damage to the hapless breakfast appliance. The young turtle's excitement at being able to physically help his big brother as he worked didn't seem to be something that was likely to wear off anytime soon. From Donnie's perspective, Mikey was actually a lot more tolerable when he was doing something practical instead of just getting in the way.

"Mikey! Are you in there, too? Hurry up!" Leonardo's voice rang out again from the other room.

"C'mon, D!" Michelangelo encouraged, and Donatello found his elbow being grabbed as his younger brother dragged him enthusiastically from the lab and into the living area, where the other two turtles were already gathered around the television.

Rather than being tuned to cartoons, or Space Heroes, the television was set to Channel 6, where the anchor was reporting on the chemicals polluting the sewer.

Mikey bounced down into the lower area, then turned back to offer Donnie a hand to do a sedate version of the same movement. As they settled themselves before the screen, Master Splinter materialised from the dojo to join them in watching.

"—go to Joan Grody, on the scene!" the host was saying, before the camera cut to the presenter, as she stood on the street alongside two familiar faces.

"Thank you, Carlos," the reporter stated automatically, as soon as she appeared on screen. "I'm here live from downtown with May and Kevin…"

"It's April, and Casey!" their friend cut in.

Ignoring her, Joan kept her focus on the camera. "Last night, they were here as the perpetrators were dumping another load of chemicals into our pristine sewer network. Although the police have yet to confirm, it seems likely that this is the work of more notorious mutants!"

"What?!" April protested. "No! It was the—some guys in black pyjamas! With a foot symbol!"

"The villains wore black, to hide their mutated disfigurements!" Joan stated, keeping her gaze fixed on the camera.

With an exasperated sigh, April reached over and plucked the microphone from the presenter's hand. "Give me that!"

Casey stepped forward to block Joan, as she tried to snatch back the stolen object. "Hand it over, you brat!" she cried.

As April took a step to the side, the camera elected to follow her rather than remain on the presenter. A smirk crept over Donnie's face, and he heard Leo and Mikey both chuckle. Their human friend raised the microphone and began to do a piece to camera as if she'd been born for it.

"Late last night, another attempt was made by the notorious criminal band to spill stolen, toxic chemicals into the sewer network," she declared, her gaze locked onto the camera and making it feel to Donatello like she was staring straight at him.

For once, he could legitimately stare back without it seeming weird, he realised in delight. A grin settling onto his face, he relished every second of gazing straight into those big blue eyes and watching as she reported the story infinitely better than Joan Grody ever could have done.

"Here's the footage we managed to capture of the crooks in action!"

Clearly the team broadcasting the article were just going with the fact that April had taken over, as they obediently cut to showing the video that Donnie had recorded. He was pleased to see that his night camera had worked perfectly, creating a clear shot of the two Foot soldiers as they'd been beginning to pull the chemical containers out of the truck in preparation to pour them down the storm drain.

Either April or Casey must have grabbed the camera again after the police arrived, as there was then some footage of the Foot soldiers being arrested. They'd barely protested, evidently still dazed from the pummelling that Donatello had given them. Although, he realised in minor annoyance, Casey seemed to be gleefully taking the credit for it.

Donnie let it go with a shrug. Maybe beating up two rookie ninjas wasn't a patch on what he'd once been capable of, but it was more than he'd ever thought he'd be doing again. A small victory, but a victory nevertheless.

The sentiment was evidently shared; Donatello realised in sudden embarrassment that his family were all grinning at him.

"You did a number on those two!" Leo commended.

"Yes," Splinter agreed. "That was well done, Donatello."

"Th-thank you, Sensei!" Donnie beamed, before turning his attention back to the screen.

Having finished showing the footage, the news broadcast had cut back to April. She hesitated uncertainly for a moment before seemingly receiving a nod from someone behind the camera, prompting her to continue.

"Following a tip off, the criminals were found to be part of a gang based in a building near the Williamsburg Bridge," she continued. "The police have been in attendance and have taken the youths into custody. The city is confident that the pollution of the sewers will now cease."

Sweeping her hair back, the turtles' young friend seemed to blossom before the camera as she announced, "this has been April O'Neil for Channel 6 news. Now back to you in the studio!"

"April makes a way better presenter than the Grody woman," Michelangelo sighed happily.

Donatello nodded in eager agreement. "She's a-a-amazing."

"Someone give that girl a job," the television anchor was saying, with a cheerful wink towards the camera. "Meanwhile, the blaze in the warehouse downtown has finally been brought under control. What caused the fire has yet to be determined, but the CCTV footage shows a costumed man fleeing the scene."

The screen showed the shattering of glass and then the unmistakable form of Michelangelo bursting out of the building with a bellow before promptly racing out of view. Within the lair, the depicted turtle giggled awkwardly, as all other eyes immediately turned to him in condemnation.

"For Channel 6 news, this has been Carlos Chiang O'Brien Gambe!" the anchor concluded, before the report cut into adverts.

Leaning over to grab the remote, Leonardo flicked the television off, while at the same moment Master Splinter turned to Michelangelo and arched his eyebrows dangerously.

Mikey shifted his weight nervously. "Uh, oops?"

"Michelangelo, come to the dojo," their sensei instructed. "I believe the rugs require cleaning… With a toothbrush."

"Oooaaawww…" the youngest turtle groaned, as he trudged off after their father.

Shaking his head, Leonardo stood and brushed himself off before sauntering over towards the kitchen. Raphael didn't linger either, as he headed for the training dummy that hung nearby.

Left alone in the middle of the room, Donatello hesitated uncertainly for a moment as he wondered what to do next. Did he go back to fixing the toaster? Ideally, he needed Michelangelo's help for that. But, given Splinter's expression, his little brother wasn't going to be released any time soon.

Glancing around for inspiration, Donnie saw that rather than attacking the punching bag, instead Raph had elected to go and sit down beside the water. His brother had been quiet all day, the turtle slowly realised. That wasn't like him at all. At least, not unless he was stewing over something. Then, it was very much like him.

Impulsively heading over, Donatello sat down next to his brother. "So, what's up, Raph?"

Raphael glanced over towards him, before rolling his eyes. "Can't a turtle wallow in peace?"

"What, like you l-let me?"

The other turtle hesitated, then conceded the point with a shrug.

Donnie dangled one leg down towards the water, using the other to prop up his arm as he twisted to gaze at his brother. "W-well?"

With a heavy sigh, Raph shook his head. "I just… I don't get it. Why? Why do you guys keep risking your shells, for me? First, when the gantry fell. Then yesterday, all of you, in the burning storehouse…"

For several moments, Donnie sat in silence as he worked out how best to answer his brother. He knew he'd taken too long when he realised he was getting a sidelong glance, as Raph was working out whether to elbow him in the ribs.

"You know…y-you do the same for us," Donatello pointed out, resting a hand upon his knee. "What about that t-time in the tunnel, when we were kids?"

He saw Raphael look towards him in confusion.

"You don't r-r-re-member, do you?" Donatello playfully accused. "I was out sc-sca-scaveng-eng-enging. You were bored, so you tagged along to torment me. We got to a part of the sewer we hadn't explored before.

"It was part of the old sewers, that had been d-damaged when they'd built the subway. I was young, I didn't realise the tunnel was u-unstable. As I pushed forward, some of it came down. It would have hit me, but you p-pushed me out of the way.

"You got hit in the head. N-not as bad, but… You were out cold. Back then, I didn't know what to do. I started dragging you back to the lair, screaming for Sensei. Just as he arrived, you had a seizure."

Raph's eyes widened slightly at the revelation.

"I thought you were dying," Donnie admitted, as he gazed down into the water below them. "But…you were ok. You came around.

"That day I realised th-that I wanted to learn m-medical skills," Donnie continued, "so that I'd know what to do if it ever ha-happened again. I wanted to know I could save you, because…"

He paused, twisting to smile at Raphael. "Well… Why did _you_ save _me_ back then, Raph? Why do _you_ p-protect any of us?"

Raph looked startled at the sudden question, then furrowed his brow as he struggled to answer. "I dunno… I don't even remember that time you were talking about, Don! I guess… Because you all get into trouble and need my help."

"But why do you help?" Donatello pushed, as he dipped his toes into the water and swished them around. "Why not just leave us to get hit?"

Colour crept into Raphael's cheeks as he finally realised where he'd been led. "Geez, Donnie! It's because… Because I…" Abruptly, he folded his arms in a huff. "You know why. I ain't saying it."

Donatello chuckled. "Me neither. There's no need."

Reaching across, he affectionately thumped his brother in the shoulder. It earned him a warm, if somewhat embarrassed smile in return, before Raphael suddenly caught him across the shell.

The two entangled in a fraternal embrace that said far more than words ever could.

 _THE END_

oOo

 _That's it, we're finally done! :O Thank you so much to everyone who has struck with the story to the end. I'd like to take this chance to give final thanks to my beta reader, CelandineGranger. :) If you haven't checked out her stories yet, definitely do so! They're absolutely amazing._

 _Finally; massive hugs with much love to all of you that have taken the time to leave me a review. :D I've been excited and happy to receive each and every one of them. I am so very, very grateful - thank you! :3 Now that the story is concluded, if you could let me know which has been your favourite part, that'd make my day! :D_

 _Until the next story... This has been Spirael!_


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